


A Better Place

by nellnellcooljay



Category: K-pop, Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Child Abuse, Cults, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Found Family, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gratuitous Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Running Away, Smoking, Violence, a couple of them apply to like one scene in one chapter, changbin is mr computer man, felix and chan are gunslinging gangsters are i love them, jeongin is a babey and we love him, jisung and hyunjin are bffls except for this one chapter where they arent, most of these tags only apply to like one chapter, seungmin is a nurse, too much vaping, woojin is a BADASS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 81,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nellnellcooljay/pseuds/nellnellcooljay
Summary: Chan just wants to create a place where lost kids can come and have a family, but his past is catching up with him and threatening to ruin everything he's worked so hard to create. After years of carefully cultivating one of the most powerful and notorious gangs in the city, Stray Kids are being targeted by a secret and powerful organization hellbent on bringing them down. Will Stray Kids be able to defeat the organization before their empire crumbles? Or will the horrors they face get the better of them?~~~"His entire goal in bringing everybody together was to make a better place for them. Make a place that was safe for them. Nothing about this was better. Nothing about this was safe."
Relationships: Bang Chan/Kim Woojin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Felix, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Lee Minho | Lee Know/Seo Changbin
Comments: 75
Kudos: 218





	1. Rebels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Rebels by Call Me Karizma while reading!

“Minho,” Chan’s voice said suddenly over the com in Minho’s ear, startling him and causing him to lose his focus on the lock he was currently attempting to pick. “Status update.”

“Would be going significantly faster if you stopped asking for status updates every 5 seconds,” Minho gritted out, forcing his attention back on the difficult lock. Behind him, Felix snickered at his irritation. He was good at what he did, but this lock was tough and he had already been trying to pick it for too long. Every second that the locking mechanism didn’t click into place, more anxiety twisted in Minho’s belly. Wiping his hands quickly on his pants, he focused his entire attention back on the lock.

Tickling at the back of his mind was the knowledge that Changbin could only keep the security system at bay and Jeongin could only keep the security guards engaged for so long before they remembered that they had a job to attend to. These thoughts only succeeded in making Minho’s hands sweatier, making the small metal tools he was working with feel slippery and hard to work with.

Clenching his jaw, Minho carefully worked his pick in the lock, pressing down the pins in the mechanism. The tiny, satisfying click it suddenly let out made him pause. He did it. He stared at it with wide eyes for one moment before snapping out of it. He breathed out all of the anxiety that had been crushing his lungs, and a smug smile broke out on his face. Looking back at Felix, Minho wiggled his eyes mischievously and pushed the door open with a flourish.

“It’s open,” he whispered smugly.

“About damn time,” Changbin murmured, obviously trying to sound annoyed but it just sounded relieved.

Stowing his tools in his pocket and wiping the sweat off his still slightly shaky hands, Minho pushed the door open a little bit more. It was small and dark and looked like nothing more than a storage room at first glance. The earlier anxiety had completely replaced itself with giddy excitement as Minho moved in and flipped on the light, illuminating the room in the same harsh fluorescent lighting that lit the rest of the building. His grin grew wider as he looked at all of the shelves which were filled with bricks of white powder. 

“You have 68 seconds to get in there, fill the bags, and get out,” Changbin informed them. “I can try to keep the system down longer, but they’ll start to notice.”

“Aye, aye, cap-Bin” Minho giggled quietly, unable to contain his glee. A quick glance at Felix showed that the other boy felt the same excitement upon seeing everything in front of them. Sharing a grin, Minho and Felix moved into the room and started filling the backpacks as quickly as they could. 

“Time to get a move on,” Chan said, his voice tense with worry. “Whatever you have is plenty.” Minho heard Felix zip up his bag behind him, but he couldn’t force himself to leave just yet, he needed to take more. Grabbing another brick, Minho shoved it into the already overflowing backpack.

“ _ Now _ , Minho,” Changbin demanded over the com. He sounded annoyed, but Minho knew that he was just worried. Neither Chanbin nor Chan liked to send the rest of them into unfamiliar locations alone, especially when it was a location they couldn't drop into at a moment’s notice if something went wrong. Minho grabbed one last brick of the white powder, slipping it into the pocket of his hoodie, before zipping up his backpack and following Felix into the hallway. Felix was giving him a look that Minho didn’t have time to decipher as he pulled the door closed.

Ignoring Felix’s look, for now, he pressed himself up against the wall and motioned for Felix to do the same. It wouldn’t do them any good to leave here if they were just going to run into the guards’ waiting arms because they were stupid enough to not check first. Holding his breath, Minho listened intently. When the only sound that he heard was Jeongin’s bright chatter with the guards over the com, he let out a breath and nodded for Felix to follow him down the hall. 

“En route to the rendezvous,” Minho said lowly. They moved fast, keeping their steps light and staying close to the walls, out of sight of most of the cameras. They peeked out every once in a while so Changbin could keep track of their location through the building. Minho knew the way out, having studied a blueprint of the building before the job. He had to constantly remind himself that just because he knew the way out didn’t mean that he could let his guard down. Just because nothing had gone wrong up until this point, didn’t mean something couldn’t go wrong now.

Glancing back at Felix, Minho frowned when he saw the hardened look in his eyes. It was a look that reminded Minho too much of Felix’s past and Minho didn’t like it. Looking at the other’s hand, his frown deepened when he saw the gun, loaded and ready, in his hand. Minho made a mental note to talk to him about that later. 

“We are waiting at the meeting point,” Woojin voiced over the com. Minho hummed in acknowledgment, turning his attention back to the bright, empty corridor. He stayed alert, really not wanting to get surprised or ambushed by anybody, especially with Felix being so on edge right now. He could practically feel the tension coming from the other, and that was never a good sign.

“You got a couple guards up here around the corner,” Changbin informed them. Minho glanced back at Felix and saw that he had readied his gun and was ready for a fight. “There should be a supply closet on your right,” Changbin continued. “Hide in there and I’ll let you know when they pass.” Minho ducked into the closet Changbin mentioned, dragging Felix in with him, and pushed the door closed behind them. It was dark, cramped, and smelled of cleaning supplies, but Minho could still make out the anger on Felix’s face as he glared holes into the door. 

Keeping a vice-like grip on Felix’s wrist, Minho forced his gun to remain at Felix’s side. Sadness and unease settled heavily in Minho’s mind as he watched Felix continue to grit his teeth and glared at the door like he wanted to burst through it and kill every living thing on the other side. Heavy footsteps walked past the door of the little supply closet they were hiding in. Minho felt Felix’s fingers twitch on the gun, tightening around the handle and moving closer to the trigger. 

Releasing Felix’s wrist, Minho placed a gentle hand over Felix’s on the gun. He grabbed Felix’s chin and forced him to stop glaring at the door and instead look into his eyes. This couldn’t happen right now. They were in too good of a position to have Felix check out and go berserk. But more than that, Minho really didn’t want Felix to do something that he would regret after the job.

The pointed glare Minho directed at him seemed to snap Felix back into himself. Looking at the ground guiltily, his fingers around the stock of the gun loosened, but Minho didn’t dare remove his hand until Felix moved to reholster the weapon. Minho breathed a small sigh of relief and squeezed Felix’s shoulder reassuringly, focusing again on the sounds of the hallway. He couldn’t hear the heavy footsteps outside anymore, but that didn’t mean much and since Changbin hadn’t given them the go-ahead to leave the room, they stayed put. Minho continued to gently hold Felix’s shoulder as they stood together in the dark, hoping to keep him grounded in reality.

“Okay, you’re clear,” Changbin finally said after what felt like eons in that too cramped closet. Minho gave Felix a questioning look, hoping that Felix was okay to keep going. Felix just gave a small nod, still mostly avoiding his eyes, and pressed passed Minho to open the door leaving Minho to trail behind. 

~~~

Woojin drummed his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel of the rental car he sat in with Hyunjin. After hearing that the other team had almost been caught, he was anxious for them to reach the meeting point and make the handoff. While the job itself wasn’t particularly difficult, something about it made him uneasy and he would very much like it to be over as soon as possible. The pay for the job was too high for a simple theft and delivery. No matter what they were delivering, there’s no way anybody would pay this much for it. Something about it just didn’t feel right.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin’s voice snapped Woojin out of his nervous rumination. Woojin looked over at him and immediately felt guilty by the concern in Hyunjin’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Jinnie,” Woojin reassured kindly, quirking his lips up into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Judging from the suspicious look on Hyunjin’s face, he didn’t exactly succeed. But Hyunjin dropped the subject with a curt nod; the job was no place to discuss these kinds of things. Woojin sighed and looked back out the windshield, watching for Minho and Felix to make their way out of the building. 

Finally, the two crept into the dark parking garage where Woojin and Hyunjin were waiting. Woojin almost leaped out of the car to greet them, but restrained himself and waited for them to swiftly make their way to the car. The two backdoors opened and Woojin watched as two heavy looking backpacks were dropped onto the car seats. Woojin sent a skeptical look to Minho, who’s front hoodie pocket pulled at the rest of his hoodie.

“Is that all of it?” he asked pointedly, deliberately keeping any accusation out of his words. He knew Minho tended to take more than what they needed and just keep it. While he knew that Minho wasn’t planning on using any of the extra drugs they had stolen, it was better not to keep them on around at all. Judging by the sheepish smile Minho gave him, he was right. Woojin watched as Minho reached into his bulging pocket, pulling out one more brick of the white powder, he put it on the seat next to the backpacks.

“Handoff crew,” Chan’s voice said over the com, “you need to go now.” Woojin simply hummed in reply, watching as the other team shut the back doors and stepped away, making their way to the getaway vehicle where Seungmin and Jisung were waiting.

Woojin pulled out of the parking garage and headed to the agreed-upon location for the delivery. The unease crept back into his mind as they got closer to the location. Fingers drumming the steering wheel anxiously, he examined his surroundings closely. He heard Chan telling Jeongin it was time for him to get out of there and meet up with the others in the getaway vehicle. It brought him some amount of comfort to hear that all the kids had made it out alright.

“Woojin?” Hyunjin’s concerned voice again pulled Woojin out of his thoughts. He glanced at Hyunjin, humming softly in acknowledgment.

“Are you sure your alright?” The question caused Woojin’s heart to clench and he directed what he hoped was a warm smile at the other.

“I already told you I’m fine,” he said, gently squeezing Hyunjin’s knee. Hyunjin didn’t look convinced, but they didn’t have time to dwell on it as they pulled up to the location.

Woojin sat in the car a moment, regarding the other car parking in front of them. He suppressed laughter at how stereotypically supervillain-esque it looked with its sleek, black paint and darkly tinted windows. A man in a suit with dark aviators stepped out of the car and again Woojin had to work very hard to school his features in a neutral business expression. Were they doing business with James Bond himself?

Nodding for Hyunjin to follow, Woojin stepped out of the car casually, forcing his face into a bored expression. Woojin watched as Hyunjin gathered the two backpacks and the extra brick. Woojin didn’t like having Hyunjin carry all of those drugs, but he needed to show Mr. Aviators that he was in charge here.

“Is that the merchandise?” Mr. Aviators asked, nodding to the bags that Hyunjin held.

“Might be,” Woojin hummed offhandedly, examining his nails. Despite the show of disinterest, he was very alert to the man in front of them. After a moment he crossed his arms loosely and looked back up at Mr. Aviators with an indifferent expression. “I guess you won’t actually figure that out until we get our money.” Mr. Aviators nodded once, moving back to the car, he reached in to pull something. Woojin kept his expression impassive and bored, but he felt Hyunjin at high alert beside him. Pulling out a briefcase, Mr. Aviators opened it and showed them the stacks of cash inside.

“That’s the agreed-upon amount?” Woojin asked suspiciously, eyeing the stacks. It seemed like plenty, but the whole situation made Woojin desperate to remain in charge. Despite Mr. Aviators just being some goon from the other party, he still felt the nerves pricking under his skin.

“Of course,” Mr. Aviators said promptly, giving a stiff nod. Woojin glanced at Hyunjin and nodded for him to go collect the briefcase. He watched as Hyunjin set down the backpacks and extra brick and walked to grab the case. Woojin kept his indifferent facade in place, but tension built in him as he watched Hyunjin get closer than comfort to Mr. Aviators and their car. 

Hyunjin collected the case and hurried back to Woojin opening it for Woojin to inspect. In all honesty, Woojin didn’t care at all how much was in the case, but he was overwhelmingly glad that Hyunjin was back by his side. Taking the case with a satisfied nod, he flipped it closed and turned swiftly back toward his car. He heard Hyunjin toss the bags toward Mr. Aviators and hoped the boy was following him back to the car.

“Tell your boss,” Woojin said icily when he reached the car, “that next time, I would love to do business with him directly.” Tossing the briefcase into the backseat, Woojin got in the car. Without waiting for Hyunjin to buckle his seatbelt, he pulled away from the meeting spot and started heading away. The facade broke and he let out a shaky breath. Glancing over, Woojin saw Hyunjin slumped back in his seat, fingers idly picking at the threads in his jeans as he stared out the window. He must have felt the same unease about this whole thing that Woojin was feeling.

“Delivery made,” Woojin said into the com. “We have the cash.”

~~~

Seungmin was bouncing nervously in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the radio. Jisung kept sending him death glares because of his nervous fiddling, but he was too anxious to care. Initially, Jisung had tried in vain to get Seungmin to calm down, but eventually, he just gave up because Seungmin was just too nervous to console. He hated having to wait for the other’s to get out of jobs okay. He hated the waiting because it always just feels like they are all collectively waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He had been flipping incessantly through radio stations, Jisung had given up trying to make him stop at this point when the back doors were swung open, nearly causing him to shriek. Whipping around, he relaxed a little when he saw Felix and Minho climb into the vehicle.

“You can put the knife down,” Minho laughed awkwardly, glancing over at Felix. Seungmin followed his eyes and saw Felix had gone completely rigid, eyes locked on the knife that Seungmin didn’t even see Jisung pull. Seungmin watched apprehensively as Jisung blinked once, looked down at the knife, and then set it down. Seungmin watched as Felix’s eyes tracked the knife.

“If I knew pulling a knife would make you not be able to take your eyes off of me, I’d do it more often,” Jisung joked, letting out a bright laugh. Despite his cheery tone and smiling, his eyes were sharp as he watched Felix closely.

At the sound of Jisung’s laugh, Felix’s eyes snapped away from the knife. Seungmin watched as Jisung’s eyes immediately softened as Felix looked at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. Seungmin coughed a little and turned around to fiddle with the radio a little.

“How did everything go?” Seungmin asked a moment later, turning off the radio and matching Jisung’s posture facing the back completely. He had been listening to the com at the beginning, but it ended up just making him more nervous, so he had tuned it out. 

Minho sent Felix an odd look that Seungmin couldn’t quite decipher. Before he had time to dwell on it though, Felix’s face broke out into a broad grin.

“You should have seen that room, guys,” Felix said, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms over his chest. “There was, like, 300 kilos of that shit in there!” Seungmin frowned at him, not liking at all how excited Felix got over that many drugs. Seungmin glanced at Jisung and noticed the frown etched into his face too.

“Oh my God,” Minho said, dramatically falling back in the seat. “It was like walking into the golden city itself!”

“I don’t understand why you guys are so excited about that,” Seungmin mumbled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and turning around to slump in his chair. As a nursing student, something about the drug runs just didn’t sit right in him. He didn’t like the idea of aiding in allowing people access to the shit, even if they weren’t the ones directly distributing it. Seungmin knew Jisung shared his sentiment, but he was never able to get the other to tell him exactly why he didn’t like them after having grown up in a place where they were so normalized.

“Think about how much that room alone was worth!” Minho exclaimed, leaning forward dramatically. “And we only took a tiny bit of it!” Beside him, Felix nodded his grin still wide across his face. Even though Seungmin didn’t agree with the reason for the excitement, it was contagious. Seungmin found himself grinning despite himself, and a glance at Jisung confirmed that the other was fighting back a grin, too.

Seungmin tuned out the rest of the conversation and relaxed into the seat a bit, watching the street intently for when Jeongin would come. Judging from the silence over the com when Seungmin finally decided to start listening again, he could only assume that Chan had told Jeongin that it was time for him to leave. The fact that he couldn’t hear Jeongin’s constant chatter set him on edge.

Seungmin didn’t even realize that he had started to nervously chew on his nails as he stared at the road and listened to the quiet of the com until Jisung reached over a pulled his hand away from his mouth. He looked over at Jisung in surprise. The look of sympathy he received was a little disarming.

“He’ll be fine, Seungmin,” Jisung said comfortingly, placing Seungmin’s hand down on the console. Jisung kept his hand firmly over Seungmin’s wrist, keeping him from continuing to gnaw on his nails. “Will you please take a breath.” Seungmin nodded taking a deep breath and forcing every muscle in his body to relax. This seemed to satisfy Jisung because he went back to chatting with the others, but he didn’t move his hand from Seungmin’s wrist.

Turning his attention back out the window, he spotted Jeongin bouncing down the street, a bright smile on his face. Seungmin perked up a bit when he saw the other, thankful that he looked generally uninjured. Seeing Jeongin bounding in their direction caused Seungin to finally relax against his seat. A small smile spread across his face as Jeongin flew into the car, crawling over Felix to position himself in the middle of the backseat.

“Didn’t I do good?” Jeongin asked, happily bouncing a bit in the seat and causing Minho to grumble a little beside him, but Seungmin saw the tiny smile that was tugging at Minho’s lips.

“So good,” Seungmin said smiling brightly at the other through the rearview mirror as he started the car and shifted it into drive. “Nobody could have done a better job than you, Innie.” He drove away from the curb as the rest of the car fell into a comfortable conversation. He was glad that everybody had made it out safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed ages for this fic! Jeongin - 19, 00 line - 22, Changbin - 23, Minho - 24, 97 line - 25  
>   
> Moving forward, I will try to put warnings for specific chapters in the notes at the beginning of each chapter for this fic!  
>   
> I hope you like the first chapter and are looking forward to the rest of my fic! I worked really hard on it and kudos and comments are always appreciated!! <3  
>   
> I have also compiled all of the songs that I recommend at the beginning of the chapters into a handy dandy little playlist that really vibes tbh https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/a-better-place/pl.u-Ymb00XqTP87KyeY  
>   
> Catch me on tumblr @acutest-angle


	2. Felix: Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Felix come to be a part of Stray Kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Violence by The Unlikely Candidates while reading!  
> Warnings: Cults (lite), kidnapping

**2 year ago**

Felix was cold. That was all he could feel anymore. Logically he knew that fear, anger, even betrayal would be appropriate in this situation, but he just felt cold. Huddled in a dirty corner of some boarded-up house, there wasn’t a whole lot he cared about other than being sheltered from the bitter wind outside. Despite being out of the wind, the oppressive cold still seeped deep into his bones, his thin t-shirt doing little to keep away the cold.

His gun lay on the floor in front of where Felix was huddled tightly in the corner. The sleek, nearly flawless metal of the gun shone in stark contrast to the dilapidated, dirty floor it rested on. Felix kept his eyes trained on the weapon, mentally counting the bullets that remained in his gun over and over again. Despite everything, he still found comfort in its familiar metal shape. 

He’d gone AWOL during a hit that had been compromised almost two weeks before. When he was chosen to take the fall for the compromised mission, he ran. Some of the older kids in The Organization used to tell him and the other younger kids horror stories about what happened when hits were compromised to keep them up on nights before skills tests, but those stories were all true. Every kid in The Organization knew them by heart, and every kid in The Organization was faced with the crushing fear of being chosen to take the fall if a hit was compromised.

Felix had deserted before any of the stories could come to life for him. When he had initially run, he had stuck to shadowy allies and dark corners until he found this boarded-up, abandoned house. By that point, he had been too cold to continue and decided to take refuge out of the harsh wind. He had been huddled in this dark and dirty corner of the house for the two weeks since then.

It felt weird being free of The Organization, even though right now he felt more like a fugitive than liberated. The Organization had been the only thing that he had ever known since they’d taken him from his family when he was only three years old. They had trained him as a gunner and had been impressed with how quickly his skills developed. He was soon the best gunner in The Organization, nobody else was as sharp a shooter as he was and nobody else was as light on their feet and stealthy as he was. They called him a protege.

He didn’t miss it, though. He missed the warm, albeit uncomfortable, bed and the occasional warm meal they provided. Aside from that, there wasn’t much but a meal and a reprieve from the cold to miss about The Organization. 

It wasn’t a friendly place. Everybody fended for themselves or they just… disappeared. Felix knew that nobody there would miss him, in fact, they are probably all glad that he is gone -- less competition and all that. There were no friends within The Organization.

Felix reached for his gun, the wear of the grip and the familiar weight of the weapon eased his frayed nerves. Releasing the clip, he quickly counted his bullets for the millionth time then slipped the clip back into place, the sound echoing dully through the empty hallways. 

Almost immediately, a different sound bounced through the building caused him to freeze. All Felix could think about were the faceless, shadowy organizations that compromised missions and made people disappear. Instinct took over and his fingers curled around the gun, loading it and placing his finger on the trigger. Listening closely, he tried to hear the sound that again. Maybe if he heard it one more time he could figure out what it was and settle down. Then he heard it again. It wasn’t loud, but it was definitely there. 

Footsteps.

Sinking further in the shadows, Felix started sneaking toward the footsteps. He wasn’t going to let somebody disappear him, not after all of the trouble that he had gone through to not be found. 

As Felix got closer, voices started to float down the hall in his direction. If he focused hard, Felix could just barely make out two voices. They should have sent more people, Felix though, his fingers flexing around the gun. Even after two weeks of no food or sleep while being huddled against the nearly unbearable cold, he was still confident in his ability to take two people.

Creeping closer to the voices, he kept his trigger finger ready, but the past two weeks must have taken a bigger toll on him than he realized. As soon as he saw the sources of the voices, instead of killing them both on-site, he paused long enough to lock eyes with one of the boys. A chill, unrelated to the icy wind whistling through the cracks in the walls, ran down his spine. He felt like a deer frozen in headlights, watching death hurtle toward him but unable to move out of the way. His breath was ragged in his parched throat, and he loathed the way his muscles protested and shook as he leveled his weapon on the boys in front of him.

“Jisung, go wait outside,” the boy who Felix was staring at said lowly, not breaking eye contact with him to address the other boy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy give a small nod before slowly backing out of the room. Every fiber in Felix’s body screamed at him to shoot the boy before he could get away, but he didn’t trust the other one not to attack him if he took his eyes off of him.

Once his friend had gone, the boy said nothing, simply holding Felix’s eye contact. Felix wasn’t sure how long they stood like that -- his gun aimed at the boy’s head while he stubbornly refused to look away -- until the boy finally broke the silence.

“Do you maybe want to put the gun down?” the boy asked. The question sounded genuine, not like the commands that Felix was accustomed to receiving. There was a certain quality to her voice that Felix couldn’t identify, but it made him uneasy. When Felix didn’t reply or lower his weapon, the boy sighed.

“Alright that’s fine,” the boy said, sounding disappointed. The disappointed caused an all too familiar itch under Felix’s skin, his fingers tightening around the hilt of the gun in response to it.

“My name is Minho.” When Felix again didn’t reply or lower his weapon, the boy -- Minho -- nodded to himself. Felix didn’t understand why he was nodding. Actually, a lot about this boy confused Felix, which only served to set him more on edge.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Minho said, holding both hands up in surrender. Felix twitched a little when he moved his arms, tightening his grip on the weapon. Minho gave him a look Felix couldn’t decipher but kept his hands where Felix could see them.

“You don’t have a coat,” Minho commented, glancing down at Felix’s thin t-shirt. This comment caught Felix a little off guard. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at the boy, trying to figure out his angle. Why did this guy care that he wasn’t wearing a coat?

“How long have you been here?” Minho inquired calmly. “It’s too cold for you to stay out here in just that.” Felix was confused about why Minho was being so kind to him. He was confused about why he was acting like he cared so much. In his utter confusion, Felix didn’t notice that he had unintentionally lowered his gun.

“Have you had any food? You look pale,” Minho observed, taking a small step forward without lowering his hands. Felix flinched back when Minho took a step toward him, leveling his gun at Minho again. It didn’t look like he had any weapons on him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do plenty of damage without one.

They stared at each other down until Felix’s head started to spin. The oppressive cold suddenly seemed to overwhelm all of Felix’s senses. He felt acutely aware of how long it had been since he had last had anything to eat or drink or even slept. He tried to keep his attention on the boy in front of him, but his vision started to grey around the edges. He fought as hard as he could against the encroaching darkness as his breaths started coming faster and shallower, catching in his dry throat and causing his eyes to water. Before he could do anything to stop it, the darkness swallowed up his vision. The last thing he remembered was the overwhelming panic he felt as he dropped his weapon.

~~~

Jisung looked up from where he had been kicking at the icy ground when he heard Minho come out of the building. Cradled in Minho’s arms was the scared boy who had just been pointing a gun at them.

“Are you stealing _people_ now, too?” Jisung asked incredulously, giving Minho a disapproving look.

“He passed out,” Minho explained, rolling his eyes. “And look at him. He looks like he’s been living in there for like a month.” Jisung gave him an unimpressed look before turning on his heel and heading down the street toward their apartment. 

“How are we going to explain bringing an unconscious boy home with us?” Jisung asked after they had walked several blocks in companionable silence. 

“The truth,” Minho suggested with a shrug of one shoulder, careful not to jostle the boy he’d slung over his other shoulder. 

“Right,” Jisung said sarcastically. “Let’s just tell Chan that we were wandering abandoned buildings, which he specifically told us not to, in case you forgot, because I dared you to and in one of those buildings we found a boy who looked like he was tweaking and also threatened us with a gun before passing out. I’m sure that will go over well.” Minho stopped walking outside of the apartment building and pursed his lips before shrugged again and walking into the lobby. Jisung groaned, chasing after him into the lobby. This was one of the dumbest things that they had ever done. 

The walk up to stairs to the apartment was tense. Jisung ran up them as quickly as he could, taking them two at a time. By the time they reached the apartment, Jisung had hyped himself up to be shouted at by Chan the moment they walked in, but everything was strangely quiet. It was the middle of the day, so Jeongin was probably at school. That meant that Seungmin and Hyunjin were probably in their room together while Changbin worked in the office room. With any luck, Woojin and Chan were likely also locked away in their room where they wouldn’t be able to yell at him.

Jisung crossed his arms and scowled as he watched Minho gently lay the boy on the couch. His scowl deepened as he watched Minho set the gun on the coffee table, just out of his reach. This was such a bad idea.

“Who’s that?” Chan asked, causing Jisung to jump and spin around to face him. A frown creased his forehead as he looked between the gun on the coffee table and the boy on the couch. Chan called Seungmin into the room, telling him to take a look at the boy. Seungmin nodded and did a cursory examination before disappearing to get his first aid kit. 

“And why’s he here?” Chan asked, turning his attention to Jisung and Minho. He didn’t look mad, but that didn’t mean much. Chan had a habit of hiding his emotions from them, especially in unexpected or stressful situations. Minho looked to Jisung for help, but Jisung just gave him a look that he hoped translated directly into ‘you’re on your own here, pal.’

“We found him in an abandoned building,” Minho said, looking anywhere but at Chan. Jisung had to stifle a laugh as he watched Minho nervously avoid Chan’s disapproving look. “And he passed out while I was talking to him. Was I just supposed to leave him there?” Minho finally chose to meet Chan’s eyes, giving him innocent, puppy dog eyes. Jisung turned his head away and coughed into his fist to cover up his laugh at Minho’s ridiculous act. When he looked back, Chan had closed his eyes and was rubbing his temple like this entire conversation was giving him a migraine.

“No,” Chan sighed finally, taking a deep breath and rubbing his face. “Where’d the gun come from?” Chan asked, gesturing blindly to the coffee table.

“He had it on him,” Minho explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Chan sighed again, deeper this time.

“Well, he isn’t hurt,” Seungmin concluded, drawing everybody’s attention to him. He was sitting back on his heels, watching the boy on the couch while he chewed his lip in thought. “He’s just pretty dehydrated, probably hungry, and definitely exhausted. We should just keep him warm and let him rest for now. He’ll need water and food when he wakes up.”

“Can he stay here?” Jisung asked curiously, looking between Chan and the boy on the couch. It didn’t seem right to just throw him back on the street after they had brought him all the way here. Chan sighed again and dropped his arms to his sides looking between Minho and Jisung before his eyes settled on the boy on the couch.

“Call a meeting in the dining room. We need to have this conversation with everyone,” Chan instructed, exhaustion coloring his words. Jisung watched Chan snatch up the gun from the coffee table and walk out of the room. When he had finally left the room, Jisung broke down into giggles, crouching down and hiding his face in his hands. What were they even doing here? They found a boy in an abandoned building and were now discussing letting him stay with them. It was like some sort of fucking novel. When he finally stopped giggling, Jisung looked up and found Minho’s amused grin.

“Let’s go see how this meeting goes,” Jisung said grinning. Minho huffed a laugh and nodded, pulling Jisung up by the elbow and leading him into the dining room.

~~~

Everybody had gathered at the dining room table after Chan had called a group meeting. The only person missing was Jeongin who was still at school. Changbin didn’t know what the purpose of the meeting was, but judging from the matching grins both on both Minho and Jisung’s faces and how tired Chan look, Changbin figured it was safe to assume that this meeting had something to do with them.

“Okay,” Chan sighed, lifting his head from where it had been resting on the table. “We have a decision to make.” Changbin furrowed his brow at Chan in confusion. Chan was a capable leader and rarely called full meetings for decisions.

“Minho and Jisung have brought a boy home,” Chan started, ignoring the scattered snickers from around the table. “The boy looks like he’s been living in an abandoned building, that Minho and Jisung had no business being in, I might add, and doesn’t seem like he has a warm place to live. They also found a gun on him which I have locked with the rest of the weapons.”

“What are you asking us?” Woojin asked apprehensively, frowning at the mention of the weapon.

“I wanted to ask everybody what they thought of him staying here,” Chan said, clapping his hands softly and then gesturing for them to start discussing. 

“I don’t think that we can just abandon him in the cold,” Minho said, drawing Chagbin’s attention from where he sat beside him. “He doesn’t even have a coat. What kind of people would we be if we just left this kid outside to die? We may be criminals, but we aren’t monsters.” 

Changbin frowned as he watched Minho. The choice to have the boy stay here with them left an odd, nauseous feeling in his stomach. Hyunjin was faster to voice his disagreement, though.

“We barely have enough space for the 8 of us that already live here,” he pointed out, looking at Minho like he had lost his mind. “How do you suggest squeezing an entire new person into this tiny apartment.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Minho dismissed with a wave of his hand. The bad feeling just worsened by Minho’s dismissive attitude. Changbin wrung his hands in his lap, picking at the skin around his fingernails. 

“You can’t seriously be suggesting that we just leave him on the street?” Jisung asked incredulously, staring at Hyunjin like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You know how hard winters are out there.”

“We survived fine,” he pointed out, shrugging at Jisung. Jisung scoffed at him like he couldn’t believe what Hyunjin was saying. Hyunjin simply responded with a challenging look, daring Jisung to speak his mind. Changbin watched the exchange, used to their silent conversations.

“We can’t send him back out there,” Jisung stated firmly, giving Hyunjin one final hard look before looking up at Chan. Hyunjin pouted petulantly and crossed his arms tightly over his chest but didn’t say anything else.

“Hyunjin’s right, though,” Changbin said softly. “We don’t exactly have the space for another person.” The look of betrayal Jisung sent him was piercing.

“We didn’t exactly have the space for Jeongin either,” Minho pointed out, careful to keep any judgment out of his voice. When Changbin looked over at Minho, he found him watching him closely.

“It was different then,” Changbin mumbled, shrinking a little bit in his seat until Minho’s gaze. The frown that creased Minho’s brow made Changbin squirm.

“How?” he asked. Despite not hearing any malice in his words, Changbin still shrunk more into his seat, slouching his shoulders forward and keeping his eyes firmly on his hands twisted together in his lap. When he didn’t reply, Minho reached over and untwisted his hands, lacing their fingers together instead. Changbin felt his face heat up but kept his eyes locked firmly on his lap.

“He could sleep on the couch for now,” Seungmin piped up. Changbin silently thanked him for continuing the conversation.

“This is all assuming that he agrees,” Woojin pointed out, ever the reasonable one. 

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jisung asked, sounding like he had genuinely not thought of that possibility. 

“Maybe he has somewhere else to go back to,” Woojin said simply, shrugging lightly. He looked unbothered by the entire conversation. Jisung pursed his lips but didn’t try to deny the possibility. 

“It seems that the majority of us agree that he should stay?” Chan asked, stepping back into the conversation. Hyunjin mumbled something that earned him a sharp look from Jisung but didn’t speak out again. Chan gave Changbin a prompting look to which Changbin just shrugged. He wished that Minho wasn’t holding his hand so tightly so he could pick at his nails again.

“Great,” Chan said, pressing both of his hands onto the table. “Minho, you’re in charge of asking him to stay.” With that, Chan stood up and left the room, Woojin following behind him.

“I needa smoke,” Hyunjin grumbled, standing and storming out of the apartment. Jisung stood and followed after him, an annoyed scowl etched on his face. Seungmin pushed his chair back with a tired sigh and chased after both of them, calling Jisung’s name as he went.

“What was that about?” Minho asked gently when it was just the two of them left at the table. Changbin focused his attention on this joined hands, idly playing with Minho’s fingers to avoid having to look him in the eye. When it became evident that Minho wasn’t going say anything else until Changbin responded, Changbin shrugged.

“There has to be a reason you don’t want him here,” Minho pressed, using his other hand to gently poke at Changbin’s shoulder. Changbin frowned down at their hands, his fingers stilling as he thought about the question.

“It’s dumb,” Changbin finally said, voice barely above a whisper. Minho squeezed his fingers reassuringly, silently prompting him to continue. When he didn’t, Minho spoke again.

“Nothing you’re feeling is dumb, Binnie,” Minho said, placing a gentle hand on Changbin’s cheek and forcing Changbin to look up at him. “Please tell me.” His face was open and kind, free of any judgment.

“I’m afraid you guys will forget about me,” Changbin whispered, face burning in shame. He knew it wasn’t true, but that didn’t stop that niggling fear in his mind. Minho blinked at him once in confusion before reaching both hands up to cup Changbin’s cheeks.

“I could never forget about you,” Minho stated firmly. “You have the most unforgettable face of anybody I have ever met. It is, like, permanently seared into my brain.” Minho nodded decisively. Changbin smiled a little at that, his fears eased a little by the silly remark.

“Plus,” Minho continued, a teasing glint in his eye, “if I haven't already forgotten about you from all the time you spend hidden away in that office of yours, there’s literally no way that you’re gonna be able to get me to forget about you that easily.” Changbin laughed properly at that, feeling a weight lift off of his chest. Minho smiled at him kindly, the teasing look in his eye replaced with something warmer. Changbin grabbed both of Minho’s hands from his cheek, holding them between his own hands, and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Minho’s lips.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, squeezing Minho’s hands. Minho grinned at him before stealing another kiss, drawing an embarrassed giggle out of Changbin. Changbin’s cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Don’t you need to go make sure that kid doesn’t freak out when he wakes up?” Changbin asked, playfully pushing Minho away.

“Is this your way of trying to get rid of me?” Minho asked, pouting dramatically. Changbin gave him an unimpressed look before he stood up from the table.

“Yes,” Changbin said sarcastically, walking out of the room toward his office. He heard Minho snicker behind him as he left the room, a smile still tugging on his lips. 

~~~

Felix was warm and comfortable when he finally woke up. Keeping his eyes closed, Felix idly wondered if he had finally succumbed to the cold. The sound of shuffling quickly dispelled that thought from his mind. Careful to hold his muscles completely still and keep his breathing even, he opened his eyes and looked around as much as he could.

The room he was laying in appeared to be a sparsely decorated living room. He had been laid across a couch and across from him sat a couple of chairs and a TV and something that looked like a desk in the corner. Panic started to creep into his mind as he wasn’t able to identify the location that he was lying.

Moving carefully, Felix reached for where his gun. The panic bubbled more when he didn’t feel the heavy weapon where it should have been. His knives were too far away from him to get discreetly, and he’d lost his second gun sometime after deserting The Organization.

“Oh good! You’re awake,” a familiar voice said. Felix shot upright, seeing no point in pretending to be asleep anymore. Pulling the blanket tightly around himself, he huddled back into the corner of the couch feeling overly exposed. Felix warily felt his knives as the owner of the voice walked further into the room, turning on a light.

The boy from earlier -- Minho, Felix remembered -- stood in front of him carrying a glass of water and a plate of… food? Despite his confusion, Felix’s stomach gave an angry pang of hunger when he saw the plate. 

“Hungry?” Minho laughed, setting the cup and the plate on the coffee table in front of Felix. The confusion quickly shifted to suspicion as he eyed the offered food warily. He didn’t understand why Minho was offering him food, he had done nothing for the other to warrant the kindness.

“Oh, you’re probably really confused,” Minho chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You passed out back in that building so I brought you here. This is my apartment where a few friends and I live.” The mention of others caused Felix to tighten his grip on the knives. While he could certainly hold is own in knife or hand-to-hand combat, he wasn’t sure how well he could hold himself against an undetermined amount of people in his current, weakened state. Minho must have noticed Felix’s distress because he raised his hands in surrender, much like what he had done with they first met.

“None of us will hurt you,” Minho promised… reassuringly? Felix felt utterly lost. Minho sighed when Felix didn’t relax at all and instead gestured to the dishes on the table. “You should eat. Or at least drink something.” Felix had no intention of consuming anything that this boy offered him. Eating or drinking something offered by a stranger in an unfamiliar place was just begging to be drugged or poisoned. He had learned this particular lesson one too many times.

“There’s nothing in them,” Minho said, nodding toward the food and drink. Felix didn’t like that it felt almost he could read his mind. “I can try it for you if you want.” When Felix didn’t reply, Minho simply reached down and took a sip of the water and a small bite of the food on the plate.

“See?” Minho asked, pushing the dishes closer to Felix. “Perfectly safe.” Felix continued to eye him before the pangs of hunger overpowered his suspicion. The water felt heavenly on his parched throat. Felix almost cried in relief as he downed the entire glass of water. Distantly, he registered a small whimper escaping his lips as he drained the rest of the cup. Forgoing silverware, he grabbed the plate and ate as quickly as he could. It was some sort of rice dish, but he ate it too quickly to taste it. When he finished, he looked up and saw two things that only served to further increase his confusion. One, the cup he had been drinking out of was once again filled with water. Two, Minho was watching him with that same strange look in his eye from before that he couldn’t identify.

“Feeling better?” Minho asked too many questions in Felix’s opinion. Deciding to humor him, Felix gave a small nod as he picked up the water again, taking small sips as he watched Minho. Minho seemed shocked that he answered at all, but the shock quickly faded to a small smile that Felix struggled to understand. 

“Can you tell me why you were out there now?” Minho asked. He moved slowly, like he was afraid of scaring Felix, and sat down in the chairs in the room. Not setting down the cup, Felix pulled the blanket tightly around himself, hiding further under it. Felix watched Minho closely, debating how he should reply.

“No,” he croaked, voice dry and scratchy. He decided it was wise to keep his desertion to himself for now. Minho nodded at that, pursing his lips in thought.

“What about a name?” Minho finally decided on, surprising Felix a little. Nobody ever asked for his name.

“Felix,” he replied quietly, still confused. He didn’t understand why Minho had brought him back to his home or why he was being so kind. He didn’t understand the bright smile that Minho directed at him.

“Felix,” Minho repeated, looking pleased. “Well, Felix, my roommates and I talked it over and we wanted to know if you wanted to stay here with us. It’d be warmer than out there.” Minho gestured to the windows behind the couch Felix huddled on.

Felix forgot about the fact that he had no idea where his gun was, he forgot that he wouldn’t be able to fight any more than probably one person in his current state, and he just stared at Minho in complete confusion. He didn’t like not understanding what was happening, but, Minho was right, this was undoubtedly better than what might have happened if he had stayed in that abandoned house or if he had been caught by The Organization. Staring at Minho for a few more minutes, Felix nodded in agreement and finally settled back into the couch and took another sip of water. Nobody would have described his posture as relaxed, but it was considerably less tense than he had been before.

Maybe, Felix thought, maybe he could stay here. Maybe this was a better place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention some people in the last chapter that I should really mention!  
> Thank you so much to Ju (@thatnormalcrazygirl on tumblr) for being one of my best betas and also helping me figure out plot and characterizations when I got stuck! Also her birthday is coming up and I love her dearly!! Ju you were such an important part of this stories journey!!!  
> Thank you so much to Key (@key-or-kai on tumblr) for being a great beta and listening to me ramble endlessly for the past like 7 months about this fic.  
> And finally thanks so much to Aimee (@if-i-had-a-castle on tumblr) for being my girlfriend but also reading every update of my fic!
> 
> Find me on tumblr @acutest-angle!!!! I live off of kudos and comments!!!


	3. Painkiller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Painkiller by Ruel  
> Warnings: smoking

**Present day**

Chan left the office as soon as Woojin and Hyunjin left the rendezvous, not waiting to watch everybody make their way home. Despite how smoothly the job had gone, suspicion thrummed under his skin. There was something about this job that didn’t sit well with him, but he wasn’t able to put his finger on what it was.

The living room was quiet when he entered it. Sinking onto the couch, Chan stared absently at the blank TV. His mind drifted to the job as he mentally recounted what had happened. It was flawlessly. Everything had gone exactly according to plan. The payout was good, great even. The risk had been diminutive. It seemed like it was tailor-made for his team specifically.

That fact alone should have raised more red flags than it had, but they had been in a bit of a dry spell and were living off of nothing but their drug money. Sure, that wasn’t an insignificant amount of cash, but that money normally went to other expenses. When they had been anonymously offered the job, Chan had accepted eagerly. Nothing about the job had seemed suspicious at first. 

_‘For a gang leader, you’re awful trusting,’_ Woojin’s voice echoed in his head.

Maybe he was right, Chan reflected. There was something amiss about this job, but what was it? There was _something_ , and it left a prominent, bitter taste in his mouth like he had downed a cup of 3 day old black coffee.

Realization trickled down Chan's spine like someone had dropped an ice cube down his shirt. The job felt more like a test rather than an actual retrieval and delivery. The job, the high payout, the fact that only there no specified amount of the drugs was requested. It all added up. The thought made the bitter taste in Chan’s mouth grow, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

Before Chan could think more about what this all meant, the door flew open, and the kids from the getaway car flooded the living room. A small smile formed on Chan’s face as he watched the chaos follow them. Jeongin playfully pushing away Seungmin’s onslaught of affection. Jisung pulled Felix toward the TV, a loud video game flashing to life on screen as Jisung shoved a controller into his hands and collapsed by his side. The closing of the office door down the hall, meaning Minho had bypassed the chaotic living room and made his way back to Changbin. 

Fierce protectiveness washed over Chan as he watched everybody in the living room. This was his family, and he wasn’t going to let anybody take that away from him.

“You alright, Chan?” Seungmin asked, snapping Chan out of his thoughts. Guilt pooled in his stomach as he was the concerned look Seungmin was giving him from where he sat wrapped around Jeongin in one of the armchairs. The feeling doubled when he saw that Jeongin was wearing a matching look of concern. 

“Everything’s fine,” he reassured, waving them off with a smile. “Just a little tired is all.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so tired if you actually slept at night instead of just passing out a little every time you blinked,” Jisung quipped over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the screen. Chan glared at the back of his head but didn’t humor him with a response. 

On screen, Felix’s character used Jisung’s momentary lapse in concentration to shoot Jisung’s character in the head. Jisung jaw fell open as he stared in shock at the game over flashing across his half of the screen. Felix looked at Jisung smugly, some comment about how shooting in real life and video games wasn’t too different being cut off by Jisung pouncing on him and tickling him mercilessly. Chan tensed briefly as he watched Felix reach from his gun, but calmed down when he saw Felix’s hand retreat back to playfully shove Jisung instead. 

While Chan was busy making sure that Felix didn’t accidentally kill Jisung, Woojin and Hyunjin must have come back. Warm arms wrapped gently around Chan’s shoulders, a comfortable weight resting on him. 

“Did you know you think with your entire face?” Woojin whispered, breath tickling Chan’s ear. Across the living room, Chan heard Seungmin complaining about how Hyunjin smelled like cigarettes and the sound of a new game starting on the TV. It soothed Chan’s frayed nerves to have everybody safely back in the apartment.

“What’s on your mind?” Woojin asked, resting his chin on Chan’s shoulder to look at Chan’s face. Chan watched over the kids in the living room, each wrapped up in their own happy little words. He wasn’t going to discuss his suspicions about the job here in the living room with all of them present -- it was senseless to worry them over concerns that may not even be justified.

Woojin frowned at Chan but didn’t force him to respond. Instead, Woojin gently laced their fingers together and guided him out of the living room and back to their bedroom. Closing the door, Woojin led them over to the bed and pulled Chan down beside him. Woojin wrapped a comforting arm around Chan, and Chan let his head fall heavily onto Woojin’s shoulders. 

“What’s bothering you?” Woojin asked, fingers idly playing with Chan’s curls. Despite Woojin’s gentleness, Chan didn’t miss the tension in his voice.

“The job…” Chan trailed off. How was he supposed to explain this feeling that he didn’t understand? Sitting up, Chan shrugged off Woojin’s touch and scrubbed his hands over his face. Woojin didn’t say anything as Chan collected his thoughts. 

“It feels like a test,” he said into his hands. Woojin hummed beside him, shifting a bit. When Chan looked up at him, he had pulled one of his knees up onto the bed to better face him. 

“It felt…” he trailed off again, searching for the right words. “Personalized. Like they knew our skillset and wanted to see just how we worked as a team.” Woojin hummed again, a frown creasing his brow. “I know it sounds crazy, but I swear something feels-”

“No, I felt something felt off about the job, too,” Woojin cut him off with a sigh. “Why do you think it’s a test, though?” Chan didn’t have a good answer for that, but he desperately wished that he could somehow soothe the apprehension on Woojin’s face.

Chan had no idea who would go through the trouble of hiring them and paying them just to see how they operated. It seemed so impossibly far fetched that Chan had a bit of trouble reconciling the idea in his mind, but nothing else made sense. No matter how many different possibilities Chan thought of or how many times he went over the job, it always came back to a test. _Someone_ was testing them, but Chan couldn’t figure out who or why. Woojin’s gentle fingers prying open the tight fist Chan didn’t realize he was making snapped him out of his frustrating ruminations.

“So what are you thinking then?” Woojin asked him. Chan shook his head despondently. He still didn’t know what to think. It was all so fucking insane.

“I think that we should take that money and not take another job for a while,” Chan replied. That’s all they really could do, Chan reasoned to himself. If they stayed under the radar, whoever was testing them might get bored and back off. At least, that was what Chan told himself to hopefully keep the bitterness at bay.

~~~

Only a few hours had passed since they’d gotten back from the job, and Hyunjin found himself standing alone in the dark alley behind their building. It reminded him of the dirty and dangerous alleys that he and Jisung used to run through when they were younger. They weren’t pleasant memories, but he felt at home here. Plus, it was the only place that he could come to have a smoke in peace without being nagged by Seungmin or Jeongin.

That had been Hyunjin’s intention when he’d come out here, but he’d been leaning against the grimy wall flipping his pack open and closed completely lost in his thoughts since he got here. He hated drug jobs, not that he’d ever say that to anybody except Jisung. They always left an itch under his skin that he wasn’t able to scratch; an itch that reminded him too much of the years he spent lost. 

Flipping the pack open again, Hyunjin finally pulled a cigarette out. He spun it between his fingers a couple of times before placing it between his lips. It wasn’t going to scratch the itch, Hyunjin reflected as he flicked his lighter repeatedly without actually lighting the cigarette.

“Can I bum one?” Jisung asked, bumping his shoulder against Hyunjin’s and scaring the shit out of him in the process. Collecting himself, he tossed the pack to Jisung, and finally lit the cigarette in his mouth. Taking a long drag, the itch beneath his skin subsided a bit but didn’t fully go away. Jisung watched him curiously, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“I thought you only smoke that bubble gum shit now,” Hyunjin teased lightly, exhaling a cloud of smoke along with the words.

“I figured you’d want company,” Jisung replied shrugging. They fell back into a comfortable silence, the smoke drifting lazily around them. Hyunjin tilted his head back against the wall and listened to the sounds of urban life around him. The distant traffic, the drips from some air conditioning unit, and the squeak of rats in the dumpster nearby calmed his racing thoughts and distracted him from the itch.

“Where’re Seungmin and Jeongin,” Jisung asked curiously. Hyungjin looked over at him and saw he was watching him closely. Hyunjin looked away, closing his eyes again.

“They went out for ice cream,” Hyunjin said, finishing the last of the cigarette and dropping it to the ground. “I told them I wasn’t feeling well.” It hadn’t been a lie exactly, but it wasn’t the full truth. As much as he loved them, he had just wanted to be alone for a bit. He didn’t want them to ask questions about why he was being so spacy and fidgety.

They lapsed into another silence, this one heavier. Hyunjin kept his eyes stubbornly closed, letting the sounds of the world wash over him.

“How are you feeling really?” Jisung asked, breaking the silence. Hyunjin sighed deeply, looking over at Jisung again. Jisung was still watching him, eyes cloudy with concern. 

“I’m feeling fine,” Hyunjin chuckled, reaching out to pat Jisung’s cheek hoping to dispel some of that concern. He hated how much he made Jisung worry. Jisung just raised a questioning eyebrow, letting his cigarette fall beside Hyunjins, stepping on them both.

“What do you want to say?” Hyunjin asked tiredly. He was not in the mood to have this conversation with Jisung again.

“You know exactly what I want to say,” Jisung snapped back.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin said, finally standing up to face him. “We’ve had this conversation so many times. When are you gonna trust me?” Jisung’s face fell.

“I do trust you,” he said softly. Hyunjin gave him a sharp look and Jisung deflated a bit in front of him.

“How do you want me to act?” Jisung asked. It sounded like he wanted it to be harsher, but it came out weak. “Anytime we run a job like this you become so distant. It worries me, Jin.” Hyunjin’s throat constricted as he looked at the worry and concern in Jisung’s eyes.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” Hyunjin said gently, gripping his friend’s shoulder. Jisung stared at him for a moment before pulled him into a tight hug that filled Hyunjin’s chest with warmth. 

“I just can’t lose you again,” Jisung whispered against his shoulder. Hyunjin’s eyes stung with unshed tears as returned Jisung’s tight hug.

They stayed like that for a moment before Jisung pulled away, the concern in his eyes replaced with mischievous mirth. Jisung always had a talent for shifting the mood of a situation 180 degrees and whatever he had in mind, Hyunjin was definitely on board.

“Now, I’m not a betting man,” Jisung started, a broad grin stretching across his face, “but I hear Felix really sucks at FIFA and could be convinced to put up anything to prove that statement wrong.” Hyunjin laughed at the conspiratorial tone in Jisung’s voice.

“What do you think that we could get out of him,” Hyunjin asked, pushing himself off of the wall. Jisung’s grin grew wider when he saw that Hyunjin was in for whatever he had planned.

“Let’s go see.” And with that, Jisung launched forward and grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist. Hyunjin laughed brightly, allowing Jisung to drag him out of the alley. 

~~~

Jeongin lounged comfortably with Seungmin and Hyunjin on the large bed in their room. Hyunjin sat against the pillows while Jeongin leaned against the wall at the end of the bed and Seungmin stretched between them using Hyunjin as a pillow and Jeongin as a footrest. 

Seungmin and he had gone out for ice cream a short while after they had finished the job, but Hyunjin had decided to stay behind, saying that he wasn’t feeling well. Jeongin was glad that it seemed like he was doing better now though if his bickering with Seungmin was anything to go by. It was the same argument they always had about Hyunjin’s ‘nasty little habit’ as Seungmin liked to call it, but the familiarity of it was relaxing. 

Jeongin twisted his spoon lazily through the melting ice cream in the cup he held before scooping another bite into his mouth. It was a new flavor that the shop had, and it was spectacularly disappointing. 

“How’s the ice cream, Innie?” Hyunjin asked when Seungmin had finally said his piece and had turned his attention back to the textbook he had propped on his chest. Jeongin watched as Hyunjin gently carded his fingers through Seungmin’s hair while giving Jeongin his full attention. Jeongin’s heart fluttered happily at the attention. 

“Delicious!” Jeongin said, smiling brightly, he ate another bite. It tasted worse melted. “I think it’s my new favorite flavor!” Lying came easier than breathing and he hated it. There was no reason for him to lie about this, but he couldn’t help it. Jeongin kept smiling brightly.

“That’s not what you said at the shop,” Seungmin pointed out, gently nudging Jeongin’s leg with his foot as he looked at him over the textbook. “You said that it looked way better than it tasted.” Jeongin just giggled and took another bite of the disgusting ice cream. 

“Well at least you know not to get that flavor again,” Hyunjin chuckled, smiling warmly at Jeongin. Hyunjin and Seungmin rarely got mad at him for lying, but that didn’t stop the guilt and disappointment he felt every time he did lie to them. It was worse when the truth never made itself known. 

Silence replaced their conversation while Hyunjin played on his phone and Seungmin read his textbook. Jeongin simply sat and stared at them, allowing his ice cream to melt to soup in the cup in his hands. He loved these comfortable moments with them.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but Jeongin slowly blinked his eyes open. The ice cream cup had been taken from his hands and set on the windowsill and a blanket had been draped over him and Seungmin.

The sun was setting outside and seemed to drench the room in a warm golden glow. Sleepily, Jeongin looked over at Seungmin and Hyunjin and his breath was stolen away from him. The golden sunset perfectly painted them in a lovely warm color. They looked ethereal. Seungmin’s head was tucked securely into Hyunjin’s chest as he slept, his textbook still open on his chest, and Hyunjin was still playing on his phone.

Jeongin traced absent patterns on Seungmin’s ankle, still propped in his lap. Hyunjin must have felt him moving because he looked over and smiled at him.

“Morning, Sunshine,” he said softly, setting his phone aside and playing with Seungmin’s hair. Jeongin would have laughed at the irony of the nickname if his heart hadn’t leaped into his throat. He simply beamed back at Hyunjin.

“What are you thinking about?” Hyunjin asked after a beat of silence.

“You two are so pretty,” Jeongin said, surprising himself with his earnestness. Jeongin felt a massive smile stretch across his face as he looked at Hyunjin. It was rare that he was able to tell them both so bluntly what he was thinking, but he was so happy any time that he could. 

Hyunjin huffed out a small, fond laugh at Jeongin’s silly smile causing Seungmin to groan a bit from where he lay on his chest. Seungmin pulled his feet off of Jeongin’s lap as he curled up into a more comfortable position pressed into Hyunjin’s side.

“Come ‘ere, Sunshine,” Hyunjin said, beckoning Jeongin over. Jeongin slid off the bed and walked to the top of the bed where Hyunjin had opened the arm that he did not currently have wrapped around Seungmin. Jeongin slid into the outstretched arm, burying his nose in Hyunjin’s neck comfortably. Hyunjin’s hand gently slid up and down Jeongin’s arm as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Jeongin felt his eyes growing heavy again as he lay wrapped tightly in Hyunjin’s arms. The rhythmic sounds of Seungmin’s breathing eventually pulled him back to sleep, his last thoughts were of how lucky he was that he had found them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! You can find me on tumblr @acutest-angle!  
> I know it's a little bit slow now, but it'll pick up soon! I promise!  
> Remember: kudos and comments are what fuel me!
> 
> Edit: I am quite literally begging yall to leave comments


	4. Jisung: Sirens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Jisung join Stray Kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Sirens by The Chainsmokers  
> Warnings: smoking, drinking, drug use, child abuse and neglect
> 
> I also dont think i mentioned earlier, but ive changed ages for this fic

**12 years ago**

Jisung and Hyunjin barreled down an alleyway as fast as they could, their bright, childish laughter echoing all around them. They had spent the morning pestering the owner of the corner store to give them snacks until caught he them stealing and chased them out waving a broom and threatening to call the cops. Of course, they all knew he wouldn’t. The police rarely showed up in this part of town for anything less than a mass shooting. Plus, calling the cops would draw all sorts of unwanted attention.

So Jisung and Hyunjin dashed away from the angry shop owner as fast as their 10 year old legs could carry them, pockets heavy with stolen snacks. The alleys they ran through were familiar as they skirted around corners and avoided rusty pipes. They ruled over these alleys as kings would rule over their empire. These alleys were their kingdom. These dilapidated and condemned homes were their castles. The homeless people, who would shout at them as they ran past were their subjects. The teenagers, who ran for the drug dealers, were their knights. This was their domain and they were happy here.

Eventually, they slipped through a boarded-up window of an old condemned house that looked like a strong gust of wind would bring the walls down around them. They settled into the living room, dirty from disuse, pulling out their haul. They arranged it all in front of them and played games to divide the snacks. They played games to trade their snacks. They played games to figure out which snacks to eat first. They played games that resulted in stealing each other’s snacks. They played until they couldn’t think of any other games to play.

When the snacks had finally all been eaten, they ran around the house, playing as fugitives on the run from the law. When that got boring, they left the house, snack trash long abandoned, and ran around the alleys again. They playing as mafia men who controlled the whole world. When the sunset and it wasn’t safe to play outside anymore, they went into another boarded-up house and sprawled themselves on the dusty floor. They lay like that and just talked to each other until that got boring, then they played some more.

They were inseparable. Most days they stayed out much later than they were allowed, but it’s not like their parents would notice. Occasionally their antics would take them to places they shouldn’t be, but they would always run away together, their childish giggles drowning out the angry shouts from whatever they had disturbed. 

But the days always came to an end and they always had to go back home before the streets got too unsafe. 

Home wasn’t a fun place to go. Home was empty and cold as Jisung’s parents spent every hour they could at work. If they were home, Jisung never knew if they would force him to sit with them for a family meal or if his father would bring out his belt and beat him until he couldn’t feel his legs. Home was an uncertain minefield that Jisung rarely knew how to navigate.

Hyunjin’s home life wasn’t much better. His mother always had a needle in her arm and his father a bottle to his lips. Neither paid much attention to Hyunjin anymore. They used to beat him, but that was too much work now that he was bigger and could defend himself. Home was just an uncomfortable bed and a wall to keep him away off the streets at the end of the day.

So Jisung and Hyunjin found comfort in the alleys. They found safety in the condemned homes they took shelter in during the nights neither could stomach the thought of going home. They each found home in each other.

~~~

**2 years later**

Jisung started middle school. It felt like a miracle that he was still in school at all. At the ripe age of 12, Jisung’s parents only paid him any attention if they were asking him when he would get a job. He still spent most days that he wasn’t at school out, either in his favorite boarded-up home -- which was still in some sort of usable state -- or just wandering around the familiar streets alone. 

Hyunjin wasn’t by his side any longer.

It hurt if Jisung thought about it too much, so he didn’t. He didn’t think about how Hyunjin had fallen in with some of the older teenagers a year ago. He didn’t think about how Hyunjin had begun ditching him to hang out with them more and more. He didn’t think about the drugs the older teenagers ran and even skimmed for themselves. And he definitely didn’t think about what it meant for Hyunjin now that he was hanging out with them.

Today was the first day of school, and Jisung hated it. He was immediately labeled as the outcast of the school. The poor kid who came from the bad side of town. All day, he had heard the other kids whispering.

_ ‘Definitely a drug dealer.’ _

_ ‘What donation bin did he steal those clothes from?’ _

_ ‘Do you think he’s part of a gang?’ _

_ ‘Look at all the scrapes and bruises, I bet he was in some sort of gang fight this morning.’ _

_ ‘Do you think he’s a baby daddy yet?’ _

Jisung had just hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and kept his head down. Kids were mean.

School ended soon enough and Jisung got to walk back to his sad neighborhood. He walked down the streets aimlessly, backpack empty save for a stolen pack of cigarettes. They couldn’t afford school supplies this year. He lazily puffed on a cigarette, not paying attention to his surroundings as he walked. 

This was going to be a lonely year and there wasn’t much that he could do to change it.

~~~

**1 year later**

Jisung refused to go back to school on the first day. He had spent most of the previous school year either playing skipping school or ditching class to smoke behind the school because he couldn’t stand the incessant stares and whispers. It made him feel like an animal at a zoo.

Forging his parent’s signatures on the paperwork was easy. Delivering it to the school was easy if he ignored all of the whispers and stares. Dropping out of school was easy.

He was 13. Not old enough for anybody to legally employ him, but maybe that wouldn’t stop some of the nearby store owners. At least Jisung hoped because today was the day that he was leaving home.

His house was empty when he got back from officially dropping out, a fact that calmed the nerves clawing at Jisung’s skin. Lately, if his parents saw him, he would get the belt regardless of what he was doing. They’d started calling him a mooch and ‘worthless money pit.’ Jisung thinks it was probably more of the drink talking, but it still hurt to hear.

His room was sparsely furnished, only holding his bed and a dresser. The walls were decorated with various posters he had been gifted when he was young or that he had stolen from the bookstore before it went out of business. 

Sitting on his bed was his backpack overflowing with clothes and a few possessions he couldn’t part with and the small amount of cash that he’d been saving since he had learned how to pickpockets when he was 8 years old. His heart twinged sadly as he thought back to when Hyunjin and he used to practice on each other until they were brave enough to start practicing on the teenagers around the neighborhood. When they were brave enough, they went to the park on the opposite end of town and would pick the pockets of businessmen and mothers distracted by their babies.

He hadn’t even seen Hyunjin since last year.

Pushing that thought from his mind, Jisung slung the backpack over his shoulder and took one last look at the room before turning on his heel and marching confidently away.

He wasn’t going to miss this place.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see kids walking around the streets during the day instead of being at school, so nobody looked twice as Jisung wandered around the neighborhood. He wandered first into the corner shop that he and Hyunjin used to terrorize when they were younger. When he asked if there were any positions available, the owner turned him down with a pitying look that stung more than his father’s belt ever had. He tried a couple of other small places around the neighborhood, each turning him down with similar pitying looks before he gave up and found a house with a loose enough board for him to shimmy through. 

He settled into the least dirty room, backpack hidden away as best as he could but keeping his most valuable possessions on himself. He was young, but he wasn’t stupid. Leaving things lying around was just asking them to be taken, even if everything was still within arms reach.

His stomach growled as he lay on the floor staring at the ceiling. The meager savings he had stuffed into his sock had to last him until somebody hired him. Jisung weighed his options, he could go steal some food from the corner store or he could just keep laying here. A quick glance out the window showed the sun had already set. Laying back on the floor, Jisung decided he could live with a bit of hunger. 

That first night felt like it lasted years.

The next day he wandered further, backpack slung over his shoulder and cigarette between his lips. He walked into about 6 places over the course of the day before a small, rundown convenience store on the outskirts of town hired him. The pay was shit, the manager told him he’d be working nights, and it was all under the table. He nearly cried as he had thanked the manager.

The next few months passed quickly. 

The job was mindless, mostly Jisung occupied his time browsing the various magazines some of the girls in his school had talked about or rearranging the products on the shelves by color because he thought it looked nice like that. People rarely came in at night, the occasion high teenager looking for a quick snack or a trucker needing a quick pick-me-up for the road were Jisung’s only clientele. 

Before he knew it, winter had come and he was living in a house without heat. It was cold and uncomfortable and he didn’t have a coat, but he had a blanket and he managed. He never stayed in the same house for more than one night, afraid of what would happen if he got comfortable. Afraid of who might accidentally wander in if he actually set up a home somewhere. 

His boss fired him in the middle of frigid February, changing the hours of the store so it was no longer open at night. Desperate and cold, Jisung again wandered from store to store and again was turned down at every turn.

By April he had resorted to sitting in the park asking for spare change.

By May he had begun posting ads for labor jobs around town. He’d mow lawns for mere dollars. He’d act as a temporary assistant for handymen. He’d pick up trash. He’d do anything. 

Then something truly inexplicable happened.

Jisung had been wandering around, looking for somewhere to spend the night, when he’d heard a commotion in an ally. Instinct took over and he took stock of his possessions before slowly inching forward. He could easily hold his own in a fight, he was scrappy and small so he could outmaneuver most and generally people underestimated his strength and cunning, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to get into a fight with whoever was in the alley.

Braced for anything, Jisung walked passed the alley but stopped cold when he saw who was in it. It felt like all of his blood turned to ice as he stared down the alley.

Sitting on some old crates surrounded by older teenagers was Hyunjin.

Two and a half years. It had been two and a half years since he had seen the only person in this world he’d ever considered family. But there he was, sitting in an alleyway in the middle of the day in May. Jisung couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

He didn’t look healthy. He was thin and pale. His clothes were dirty. His hair matted. Sure Jisung didn’t look much better, but he hoped he didn’t look so sickly. The ally smelled of weed and booze, but those smells were so common that Jisung almost didn’t notice them at all.

His legs started walking down the alley on their own, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of Hyunjin. An ugly feeling twisted in his gut like a knife as he looked down at Hyunjin. They stared at each other for a while, Hyunjin blinking slowly at him, a lazy smile on his face, and Jisung desperately trying to keep tears at bay. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he wanted to cry, just that the hot tears threatened to spill down his cheeks at any moment.

“Sungie!,” Hyunjin finally spoke up, words slurred. “How you been?” Jisung stared at him, blinking hard. The tears dried, whatever feeling that had elicited them quickly being replaced by confusion.

One of the other guys in the ally passed Hyunjin a bottle. Hyunjin took a long pull before handing it back. Jisung followed the movement with his eyes, body stiff.

“Are you drunk?” Jisung asked. He hated how weak his voice sounded. How it barely rose above a whisper. How is shook when he spoke. Everybody in the alley broke out in the rambunctious laughter.

“Maybe a little drunk,” Hyunjin shrugged. “Maybe a little high. Not really sure anymore.” He sounded relaxed. Jisung hated this. Behind him, Jisung heard somebody asking Hyunjin if he wanted to do a line. It all made him sick.

“Hyunjin,” Jisung choked out as he watched his friend turn down the line but accept a small orange bottle from somebody. Jisung watched as he popped the top and swallowed some pills with some of the alcohol passed his way.

“You ‘anna try one, Sungie,” he asked, lazy smile still in place as he shook the bottle in Jisung’s direction. Jisung clenched his jaw, not replying. This was so wrong. This was not the Hyunjin he knew. An ugly feeling in his gut made him want to puke. 

“I promise you’ll love it,” Hyunjin coaxed, but his words were still so slurred it didn’t hold much of an effect. The pill bottle was snatched out of his hand by another person in the group and Jisung decided he couldn’t stay here any longer. He turned on his heel and fled from the ally. Distantly, he heard laughter and Hyunjin bidding him goodbye.

It shattered his heart when he heard Hyunjin’s slurred goodbye.

He spent a week huddled in the first boarded up house that he found after that. The first few days he spent crying. It felt like he had just witnessed Hyunjin’s death and there wasn’t anything that he was able to do about it. He had lost his only family in this world, and it hurt so bad.

For the first time ever, he felt truly alone.

After he’d cried all of his tears, he spent a couple of days feeling numb. The numb was better than the physical pain in his chest and stomach when he thought about what he had seen. He couldn’t bring himself to move from where he lay staring at the ceiling desperately trying to not think about Hyunjin.

It didn’t work.

When the hunger finally drove him to try to find food in his backpack, he found it empty except for his cold metal knife. Pulling it out, he looked down at it in the dark room. It was a butterfly knife he had stolen from some rich kid one day in the park and it was sharp. More tears stung his eyes as he thought back to when he and Hyunjin had been 9 and had taught themselves to use butterfly knives. They had stolen some of the dull training knives from a nearby knife store and had spent nearly 6 months perfecting their skills.

Jisung pushed those thoughts out of his head.

Swallowing hard, he stared down at the knife in his hands. He needed money. He needed… anything.

He needed to feel something other than pain.

With a newfound resolve, Jisung stood up and slid on his backpack. It was dark outside, but Jisung had no idea what time it was. Hell, he didn’t even know how long he had been in his house. He slipped his hood onto his head and walked out of the house.

The walk to the nearest 24-hour convenience store was a short one. Standing mostly in shadow outside of the building, Jisung stared up at it nervously. Sure he’d stolen, everybody around here had, but he’d never committed armed robbery before. 

He stood flipping the knife around in his hand, staring at the clerk behind the counter as they read a magazine. It reminded him of himself.

Slowly, he took a step toward the door. The ugly feeling in his gut was back, but he smashed it down as he took another step.

He could do this.

He needed the money.

He needed the release.

“Hey,” a voice behind him said, causing Jisung to jump. Whipping around, Jisung quickly tucked the knife into his pocket.

“What are you planning to do? Rob the place?” The voice belonged to a short boy who didn’t look that much older than him. The boy stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, hoodie swallowing his entire frame. Jisung stared at him wide-eyed ready to either bolt or fight.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” the boy continued. “They don’t have much except some really good snacks, and I’d rather you didn’t fuck up my snack access.” Jisung blinked at him in confusion. The boy watched him back.

His posture was stiff, but not in a way that Jisung recognized. He wasn’t threatening Jisung, he looked like he wanted to disappear into himself.

“Who are you?” Jisung asked. It wasn’t his business and it didn’t matter, but the boy didn’t look like he belonged around here. His clothes were newish, and he lacked the aggressive defensiveness of someone who grew up around here.

The boy didn’t answer, instead giving Jisung a hard look.

“Tell you what,” he finally said, posture still stiff and anxious, “I’ll give you a place to stay, because you obviously don’t have one, as long as you just don’t rob the place.” Every self-preservation instinct that Jisung had was telling him not to go with somebody he had just met in the middle of the night. But on the other hand, was this not exactly what he had wanted when he had left that house a few short hours ago.

“Do you often offer rooms to homeless kids you meet on the street as an ultimatum for not robbing your favorite snack joint?” Jisung asked, going for judging but hitting closer to confused. The boy just shrugged.

“I’m Changbin,” he said softly as if it pained him greatly to offer his name. Jisung watched him for a second longer, not sure what to do.

“Jisung,” he replied shortly. They again slipped into a tense silence, staring at one another. Something in Jisung broke. He was tired and his heart still hurt and his guy didn’t seem like he would hurt him. Even if he did, it would be something other than the all encompassing pain that he had felt for the past week.

He had come out looking for a distraction, a release, anything to block out the pain, and here it was being offered to him on a silver platter.

“Alright I won't rob the store,” Jisung conceded. The boy breathed what look like a sigh of relief and Jisung almost cracked a grin.

“But,” he continued, making the boy stiffen again. “You have to buy me some of these amazing snacks that you are apparently willing to house a stranger for.” The boy just nodded and led the way into the store, Jisung trailing behind him. They got their snacks and went back to Changbin’s small apartment, Changbin giving him the couch and retreating to his room.

The snacks were good.

It took about a month for the two to believe the other wasn’t going to murder them in their sleep. It took another two months before they started to exchange any sort of pleasantries. By the end of the nine months, Jisung would consider them friends.

Bored and looking for entertainment, he knocked on Changbin’s door. Not waiting for a reply, Jisung walked into the cramped room. Changbin was hunched over a laptop on his bed. Jisung collapsed behind him, causing the bed to bounce, and groaned loudly. When he didn’t get a reply, he flailed a bit and groaned louder. Finally, Changbin looked back at him

“Can I help you,” he asked, sounding as tired as he looked. Jisung frowned up at him but didn’t comment on it.

“I’m bored,” Jisung said simply. Having spent nearly every day of his life doing something exciting, staying cooped up in an apartment with almost nothing to do for nine months had rubbed his nerves raw.

“Well I guess you could go get a job or something,” Changbin said, turning his attention back to his computer. He must be doing something important. Jisung sat up and peered over his shoulder at the lines and lines of text he didn’t understand. It hurt his head to look and reminded him how much smarter than he Changbin was.

But as he watched what Changbin type, he had an idea.

“What if we became a criminal duo,” Jisung said, grinning widely. “You with your computer. Me with all of my impressive skills. Think of everything we could do.” Jisung had expected Changbin to immediately shoot him down and tell him how dumb he is, but Chanbgin seemed to actually be considering it.

“That might actually work,” he said slowly. “But why?”

“We need money,” Jisung repeated the familiar mantra. “Plus nowhere is gonna hire either of us, and we can’t keep living off your parents' money. They’ll start noticing.” Changbin thought about it for a while longer before nodding in agreement.

“Let’s try it,” he said decisively, much to Jisung’s complete shock. A laugh bubbled out of Jisung as he stared at Changbin.

“You’re serious?” Jisung asked, excited.

“Only if you were,” Changbin said with a shrug, turning back to his computer. “I’ll find a place to rob. You just get ready to rob something and not get caught.” Jisung laughed again, falling back on the bed again.

This was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Comments and kudos keep me alive!! <3


	5. Monsters in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Monsters in the Dark by MyKey  
> Warnings: theres a lil knife throwing ig

**Present Day**

Every muscle in Changbin’s body ached from being hunched over his laptop for so long. Groaning softly, he stretched his arms overhead, feeling his back pop. His eyes protested when he forced them open again to look at the monitor proudly displaying what he had found. Grabbing his eye drops, he dropped two in each eye before leaning forward again and getting back to work.

A knock on his office door interrupted his concentration and forced his attention from his work. Leaning back in his chair, he watched as Jisung stuck his head into the room without waiting for Changbin to invite him in. A bright smile stretched across Jisung’s face as he slipped into the room and made his way over to the second chair that usually sat empty at Changbin’s desk. Changbin cracked his neck, eliciting a tiny giggle from Jisung, before turning back to his work.

“What are you up to?” Jisung asked curiously, once again breaking his concentration. Despite wanting to be annoyed with Jisung, he was so used to his disruptive presence that he couldn’t find it in himself. When he glanced over at Jisung and saw him smoking a Juul while blinking at the screens uncomprehending, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Is that Minho’s?” Changbin scoffed, returning his attention to what he was working on. Jisung snickered beside him as he exhaled the vapor toward the ceiling. They all knew Changbin didn’t particularly care if they vaped or whatever in his office, but if they blew that damn vapor onto his equipment, he  _ would  _ kill them with no hesitation.

“Maybe,” Jisung said, still giggling. “He steals from me all the time, though! This is just karma.” Jisung sounded so matter-of-fact when he said it that Changbin couldn’t hold back his surprised laughter. Changbin looked over at Jisung and saw him laughing as the smoke dispersed on the ceiling. Soon after, they fell back into silence as Changbin lost himself in his work again. At some point, Jisung had slung his legs into Changbin’s lap without him noticing. When he finally did notice, he didn’t bother moving them.

“You never told me what you’ve been working on in here for the past, like, 18 hours,” Jisung said finally, apparently having gotten bored of just staring at the various displays. Changbin frowned a little, had it really been 18 hours? Sitting back in his chair again, he turned his attention to Jisung. He wasn’t going to be able to finish what he was working on anytime soon, and if it had really been 18 hours, he figured he probably needed a break.

“I’m trying to figure out who gave us that job request,” he said. “I think I’m on to something.” Jisung perked up at that, pulled his feet off of Changbin’s lap and sitting up attentively. They had all felt the peculiarity of the job and with Chan refusing to talk about anything related to the job at all, it made them all uneasy.

“What’d you find?” Jisung asked, eyeing the jumble of information on the screen briefly before giving up and looking back at Changbin. What had he found? In 18 hours he should have found so much more than he was able to. Changbin scrubbed his hands over his face and dropped his head back onto the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

“Not a whole lot other than that apparently they are damn near untraceable aside from a few traces of them almost everywhere.” It all felt like such a waste of time. He had spent so long getting that little information and saying it out loud really just highlighted what a waste it was.

Jisung hummed beside him. Changbin listened to Jisung take another hit from the stolen Juul before exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling where it dispersed and vanished.

“What traces of them did you find?” Jisung asked, breaking the silence. Changbin hummed as he sat forward again and pulled up all of the information that he compiled across all of his many monitors. 

“I’m not 100% certain that its the same entity,” he began, looking at all of the information. It had started as police reports, but Changbin was able to get into the bank records of the other gangs that had pulled the jobs. He had discarded the jobs that seemed to have an appropriate pay or jobs that almost didn’t seem to have any pay at all -- though he couldn’t figure out why anybody would work for no pay. He also discarded jobs that were paid by non-anonymous sources. “But these all seem to have the same general characteristics as the job that we got. They are all overpaid and custom-tailored for the gang they were hiring. The wire transfer from each also all seem to be bounced by the same IP bouncer, and it looks like they coded it themselves, which is the only reason that I was able to tell. Only trouble is, none of the gangs actually seem to exist.” 

Jisung nodded along with what Changbin had been telling him, eyes scanning over the various documents displayed on the screens.

“Where did the other gangs go?” Jisung asked curiously, cocking his head to look at Changbin.

“I have no idea,” Changbin said shrugging. It was a little bit disconcerting for these gangs to either have vanished into thin air or never existed at all. Changbin chose not to dwell on these gangs because it wasn’t unheard of for a gang to be completely erased for whatever reason. Jisung hummed again, leaning back in his chair and throwing his feet back in Changbin’s lap as he scanned the information.

“We should probably tell Ch-” he began but was cut off by a ding coming from the computer. Jisung and Changbin startled a bit at the sudden sound and shared an uneasy look before they both sat forward. Changbin navigated over to the secure server they used to communicate with clients. Embedded in the deep-web, it was only accessible to those who were looking to hire them or previous clients. It was so secure that Changbin was sure that nobody should be able to hack it. When he opened the server, it prominently told him that there was one waiting message.

“I thought you closed that,” Jisung whispered as they stared at the flashing that indicated a new message. Changbin had made it inaccessible from the outside after the last mission when Chan told them that they weren’t going to take any more jobs for a while. That made the flashing of the notification all the more unsettling.

Not answering Jisung, Changbin moved to open the message. The message was simple, as most job requests were, telling them a location, a payout amount, a deadline, and a brief description of what they wanted done. The payout was enormous and the client had chosen to remain anonymous. Changbin’s blood ran cold when he read the job.

“Go get Chan,” Changbin said, fingers frozen as he read over the message again. When Jisung didn’t move, Chanbin kicked him sharply in the leg. “Now, Jisung!”

Jisung nodded and ran out the door to go find Chan leaving Changbin to stare at the message again. There was no way he could backtrace who sent it, he had created the server to be untraceable for both their safety and the safety of their clients. Not only that, something told Changbin that even if he were able to backtrace it, he’d find that familiar IP bouncing code. After what felt like hours, Jisung returned with Chan closely behind him.

“What happened?” Chan demanded frantically, looking between a still frozen Changbin and a pale Jisung. Changbin said nothing, simply gesturing to the message on the screen.

“I thought you closed the server?” Chan asked in confusion, as he stepped forward to see the message. He stopped dead when he read it, color draining from his face.

“Changbin,” Chan said, slowly tearing his eyes away from the message on screen to look at Changbin. “I thought you closed it.”

“I did,” Changbin confirmed softly. He hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from the screen since opening the message. Chan collapsed into the chair Jisung had abandoned and buried his face in his palms. Jisung stood silently by the door, chewing his thumb nervously. The room fell into a long silence.

“What do we do?” Jisung finally asked. His voice was quiet, but it sounded like a gunshot in the silence of the room.

“I don’t know,” Chan admitted miserably, he lifted his face out of his hands to look at the message again. Changbin hated seeing Chan look so helpless. “I’m not sure that we have a choice in accepting the job, though. So I guess for now we start planning.”

“Should we tell the others?” Jisung asked. Truthfully, Changbin hadn’t even considered that they’d have to tell the others about the request. That didn’t sit well with him.

“Not yet,” Chan said firmly. “Later.” None of them moved or spoke again after that. They all stared at the job request on screen. It was short.

Eliminate the gang at the designated location.

No survivors. 

~~~

Felix was sitting cross-legged on his bed, meticulously cleaning his gun. It had been a couple of days since their last job, and he hadn’t had the time to sit down and give her the proper attention that she needed between Minho’s pestering and Jisung’s weird behavior. He was completely absorbed in his work when he heard the door slam open abruptly. Before he had a chance to think, Felix had already thrown a knife at the door and was holding another to throw.

When his brain finally caught up with the situation, he saw a wide-eyed Hyunjin staring at the knife embedded in the wall by his head. With a sheepish smile, Felix lowered the other knife, sliding it back under the pillow.

“You scared me,” he said by way of apology, turning his attention back to cleaning his gun.

“Well at least your gun is in pieces, otherwise I’d be catching some shit from Woojin for causing you to shoot another hole in the wall,” Hyunjin grumbled, slamming the door. Yanking the knife out of the wall, he tossed it onto the bed beside Felix who slid it back under his pillow without looking up from his gun. 

“Why are you here?” Felix asked as he listened to Hyunjin collapse into the chair in front of Jisung’s desk and start rifling through drawers.

“Something’s up with Jisung, Chan, and Changbin and they won’t tell me what it is,” Hyunjin said, he sounded on edge. Felix hummed in agreement. While he had noticed their strange behavior, he hadn’t spent much time dwelling on it. They would tell them what they needed to know when they needed to know it, and for now, he just had to trust that everything was okay.

“And I don’t like that they’re keeping something from us because it’s gotta be something big because I haven’t seen Jisung this stressed in a long time,” Hyunjin went on as he continued to rifle through Jisung’s desk. “Plus exams are coming up which means both Jeongin and Seungmin are spending their time studying or at school or whatever.” Felix had noticed that they hadn’t been around as much recently.

“And to top it all off Seungmin is back on his damn crusade of making me quit, and he stole my pack and hid my fucking wallet so I can’t go buy another and- WHERE THE FUCK DOES JISUNG KEEP HIS STUPID VAPE?!” Hyunjin cut off with an annoyed shout, slamming the drawer he had been looking through with too much force. Felix looked up from his work to watch as Hyunjin dropped his head heavily on the desk, groaning loudly as he gripped his hair.

Felix carefully cleaned the final piece of the weapon before assembling it and setting it gently on the bedside table. Sliding off the bed, he retrieved the vape from where Jisung kept it in his backpack by the closet. He slid it onto the desk beside Hyunjin who accepted it gratefully, taking a long hit off of it as Felix made his way back to sit on the bed. Hyunjin visibly relaxed as he slowly exhaled the vapor before taking another long hit. Setting the pen down softly, he exhaled slowly.

“God, I hate that shit,” Hyunjin said, causing Felix to snicker as he glared in disgust at the offending pen. “I have no idea how Jisung can stand it.”

“Why are you really here?” Felix asked, genuinely curious. Hyunjin could have just as easily gone down to the convenience store and stolen a pack of cigarettes if he was that desperate, and yet here he was in Felix and Jisung’s room smoking Jisung’s sweetly flavored mod.

“Something’s up with Jisung, Chan, and Changbin,” Hyunjin repeated, looking at Felix from where he had laid his head on the desk. Felix nodded to him, leaning back against the wall.

“I don’t like being kept out of the loop like this,” Hyunjin sighed, sounding defeated. “Everybody just seems so stressed. I hate seeing everybody like this.” Felix hummed again. The general feeling around the apartment for the past few days had been like a rubber band pulled taut, waiting for any moment to snap. Hyunjin closed his eyes for a moment, taking another hit from Jisung’s vape. Felix continued to watch him curiously, knowing that wasn’t all Hyunjin wanted from him.

When he didn’t speak for a while, Felix pulled the knives out from under his pillow, intending to sharpen the one he had embedded in the drywall.

“Come spar with me,” Hyunjin said suddenly, causing Felix to look up at him. He had lifted his head off of the table and was looking at Felix pleadingly. It wasn’t an unusual request, he and Hyunjin sparred often -- Felix had more formal training than Hyunjin did, but Hyunjin was still quite skilled in martial arts -- but the timing felt a little bit odd. 

“Please?” Hyunjin asked, his lips tilting up in a small, hopeful smile. “I think I’m going to explode if I have to be in this apartment any longer.” Felix laughed at his dramaticism, sliding the knives back under the pillow and putting his maintenance kit away.

“Alright,” Felix said, slipping his gun into his ankle holster dropping his pant leg back over it, hiding it from view. Despite having grown accustomed to not being in constant danger, he still brought a gun with him everywhere he went. Sliding silently off the bed, he walked over to the door and pulled it open, listening as Hyunjin followed after him.

“You’re not allowed to shoot me while we spar,” Hyunjin teased, poking Felix in the side before slinging his arm over Felix’s shoulders. Felix half-heartedly swatted at his hands, but a small smile spread across his face despite himself.

“I won’t shoot you if you fight fair,” Felix teased back. “No dirty street fighting.”

“That’s not fair,” Hyunjin whined as they left the apartment, making their way toward the sparring gym. Felix glanced at him quickly before laughing at the pout prominently on his face.

“Then I guess I’ll have to shoot you,” Felix giggled, shrugging lightly. Hyunjin made an affronted sound as a pulled his arm from around Felix's shoulder.

“You can’t shoot me if you can’t catch me,” he said, a mischievous look in his eyes as he darted off in the direction of the gym.

“Hey!” Felix shouted after him, running to catch up with him. Jisung and Hyunjin were too similar sometimes.

~~~

It had been nearly a week since the tension in the apartment had reached an all time high, and Minho was more than glad that Chan had called a meeting with all of them because that meant that some shit was going to be explained. They had all gathered in the living room with Chan standing in front of all of them looking unusually serious. 

When Minho had seen that Changbin was out of his office for the first time that week, he had pulled him down beside him and wrapped both arms around his middle tightly so he couldn’t get away. Changbin was tense in Minho’s arms, but he wrapped one arm around Minho’s back and rubbed gently. Nuzzling his head into Changbin’s neck, Minho placed a gentle kiss on his collarbone trying to calm him down. It seemed to work a little bit because some of the tension left Changbin’s body as Minho rested his head on his shoulder.

Everybody was scattered around, quietly watching Chan and waiting for him to speak. It was rare that they were all gathered together and completely silent, and it highlighted just how tense the atmosphere had felt. 

“Okay, guys,” Chan finally said, gathering the attention of everybody in the room. “We’ve got a job.”

“I thought we weren’t taking on any new jobs?” Woojin asked immediately, brows furrowed in confusion.

“We weren’t,” Chan confirmed with a nod. “But we’re taking this one.”

“Why?” Woojin demanded. There was a dangerous look in Woojin’s eye as he stared Chan down, it almost looked like he was on a job.

“Turning it down wasn’t an option,” Chan spoke carefully, keeping his face clear of any emotions.

“What’s the job?” Felix asked, ignoring the weird tension between Chan and Woojin.

“It’s a hit,” Chan started to explain. “We have been asked to take out another gang. The other gang is a little bit bigger than us, but Changbin, Jisung, and I have done some research and I don’t think we’ll have much trouble.”

“What gang?” Hyunjin asked curiously, sitting forward as he listened intently.

“It doesn’t matter,” Chan dismissed causing Hyunjin to pout and sit back. “What matters is that we have three weeks to plan, prep, and execute the hit. Again, I don’t see any sort of problem with this. I just wanted to let everybody know that we have started the planning process and we just need to clear some small things up with each of you and then we will start prep. To get prep started I want Minho and Seungmin to go out and restock on anything we are low on. Medical supplies, ammunition, anything you may think that we will need. Changbin and I are going to be in the office working out some of the finer details of the plan. Jisung and Hyunjin are gonna go out and canvas the area a bit, find out the stuff we need to know that we can’t find remotely. That’s all for now, we’ll call you each in individually to go over your roles, and we’ll have a final meeting before the job to discuss the plan as a whole.” With those final words, Chan turned and disappeared down the hall in the direction of the office. Nobody moved for a breath, digesting everything they had just been told.

Jisung was the first to move, standing up and grinning at Hyunjin who grinned back at him. They quickly left, Jisung excitedly dragging Hyunjin along with him. Then Felix disappeared, but since he hadn’t been given an assignment, Minho had no idea where he went. Changbin shifted under him, obviously wanting to get up and follow Chan, but Minho simply held on tighter, not moving. 

“Minho,” Changbin sighed. “I have to go help.” Minho whined and buried his face in Changbin’s neck.

“You’re gonna lock yourself in that damn office for the next three weeks and I’m not going to see you at all,” Minho whined, not lifting his head. Changbin didn’t reply, but he didn’t try to move again. The others slowly dispersed, leaving Minho and Changbin alone in the living room. They stayed like that for a long while, Changbin completely relaxed in Minho’s arms and Minho just happy to have him not locked away in his office.

Eventually, Seungmin wandered in and reminded Minho that they had to go out and restock. Minho pouted but slowly unwound himself from Changbin to follow Seungmin out the door. 

The walk to the store was uneventful, Seungmin’s lively chatter filling the space between them. Minho would give snarky comments when he felt them appropriate but otherwise simply allowed Seungmin to talk.

Their first stop was the pharmacy. Seungmin’s med pack was running low on just about everything. Seungmin muttered quietly to himself as he led to way through the pharmacy, finding the things he needed to restock his med pack. Minho followed absently behind him, lightly tracing his fingers along the shelves as they passed them. His fingers twitched as he looked at the various products displayed on the shelves.

“Alright,” Seungmin said suddenly, causing Minho to look away from the boxes of bandages. “I have everything we can go.” Seungmin turned to leave and Minho grabbed the nearest box without thinking and slipped it up his sleeve before trailing after Seungmin. They paid for what Seungmin needed and left the store, the bandaids Minho had taken still pressed in his palm. Seungmin and Minho walked a couple of blocks together in silence before Seungmin spoke up.

“You can put the bandaids in the bag, too,” Seungmin said, holding out the bag for Minho to put it in. Minho blinked at him in surprise.

“Oh don’t act so shocked,” Seungmin laughed. “We spent so long in that aisle. I’d be surprised if you didn’t grab some.” Minho slid the box out of his sleeve and dropped it in the bag.

“Changbin’ll like those,” Seungmin giggled when he saw the Hello Kitty bandages that Minho had given him. Minho shoved him playfully, holding his own laughter back.

The next stop was the gun store. Minho led the way through walked through the store, gathering everything they needed and placing them into the basket that Seungmin insisted he carried. Much to Minho’s utter dismay and annoyance, the store owner seemed to recognize him and kept a very close eye on them as they shopped.

“Find everything okay?” the owner asked gruffly as they set everything on the counter. Minho just hummed, placing the last of what they needed on the counter.

“This all of it?” The question sounded innocent enough, but the sharp look the owner gave him annoyed Minho.

“ _ Yes _ that’s all of it,” Minho said sharply, glaring at the owner. The owner huffed before he began to ring them up, Minho glowering at him the entire time. Minho paid and collected their things and left.

When they were outside Seungmin let out a low whistle.

“What’d you do to piss him off?” Seungmin asked as they started walking back home.

“He caught me stealing a couple times,” Minho said nonchalantly. “Not my fault the bastard has such goddamn eagle eyes.”

“You stole from a gun store?” Seungmin asked in disbelief. Minho just shrugged, not looking over at him afraid of the judgment he’d find. He knew it was dumb, but he couldn't help himself.

“You’re insane,” Seungmin teased lightly. Minho glanced over at him and saw nothing but mirth in his eyes. The anxiety left him out easily enough and Minho grinned back. 

They fell back into easy banter as they made their way back home.

~~~

Woojin was walking toward the kitchen, intending to make dinner for everybody too occupied with heist planning to properly care for themselves. He was still annoyed that Chan hadn’t told him about the job before, but he would get over it and everybody needed to eat.

He stopped short when he saw Jeongin sitting at the dining room table, pouting down at what looked like a worksheet. Abandoning his original plan, Woojin slid into the chair directly across of Jeongin at the table.

“What are you working on?” he asked, peeking at the paper.

“Chemistry,” Jeongin mumbled, still pouting at it. “Chan said that I’m not allowed to help plan because exams are coming up.” Woojin nodded at that. When Jeongin had joined the team three years ago, they had made him promise that he would finish high school, so it made sense to Woojin that Chan would prioritize Jeongin’s education over the job.

“He’s right, kiddo,” Woojin said kindly, offering Jeongin a smile when he looked up sadly. “You graduate in the spring. Gotta finish strong.” Jeongin just huffed and went back to filling out the worksheet.

“Speaking of which,” Woojin said after watching Jeongin struggle with the worksheet for a moment, “how are your grades this semester?”

“Fine,” Jeongin mumbled, not looking up to meet Woojin’s eyes. Woojin frowned at him. 

Jeongin lied exceptionally well, and Woojin knew that he didn’t always do it on purpose, but Woojin was also able to tell anytime that Jeongin lied. Everybody has tells when they lie and while Jeongin’s tells were tiny, nearly imperceptible, they still existed.

“Jeongin,” Woojin said sharply, causing Jeongin to look up at him. “How are your grades? And don’t lie to me this time.” Jeongin pouted more, crossing his arms and sinking into his seat.

“I’m failing two classes,” he admitted softly, not looking up at Woojin as he said it. Woojin sighed softly, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his fists. He had honestly been expecting a lot worse - Jeongin on the verge of expulsion or failing all of his classes - but this was manageable.

“What classes?” Woojin asked gently. He knew that Jeongin hated to disappoint them so he didn’t want to make it sound like he was upset. Jeongin didn’t reply right away, choosing instead to stare hard at the table.

“It doesn’t matter,” he grumbled, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. It felt like Woojin was having this discussion with 16 year old Jeongin again. Woojin rubbed his temple before he tried to talk again.

“It does mat-”

“I don’t even understand why you guys want me to graduate so bad!” Jeongin burst out suddenly, throwing his hands up and slamming them onto the table. Woojin gave him an unimpressed look.

“You know it’s important to Chan and I that you get your education,” Woojin said simply. Jeongin laughed bitterly, crossing his arms and slumping back in his chair again.

“Chan didn’t even graduate high school,” Jeongin pointed out petulantly, glaring at the table.

“This isn’t about Chan,” Woojin reminded him sharply. Guilt choked him as he watched Jeongin flinch back at his harsh tone. Woojin took a breath and forced himself to calm down. Jeongin was struggling and he needed somebody to be understanding, not somebody to yell at him.

“Only like two of you guys finished high school,” Jeongin mumbled, still slouched in his chair. “I don’t understand why it’s so important.”

“We want you to be able to have opportunities if you decide that you want to leave the gang one day,” Woojin said gently.

“But I won’t want that. You guys are my family.” Jeongin’s voice wobbled a bit and Woojin’s heart broke.

“Come here, Jeongin,” Woonjin said, opening his arms. Jeongin stood with a nod and made his way around the table where he collapsed into Woojin’s arms. Clutching Woojin’s shirt tightly, Jeongin buried his face in Woojin’s shoulder. 

He’d grown a lot since he was 16, Woojin noted to himself. 

Pulling Jeongin into a tight hug, he felt hot tears soak into his shirt. Woojin ran his hands up and down Jeongin’s back, letting him cry silently into his shoulder.

“I’m not saying that we want you to leave, Jeongin-ie,” Woojin said when he felt Jeongin calm down. “I’m just saying that we want you to have more options than the rest of us had. Most of us didn’t have the option to finish high school, but you do and we want you to take that opportunity.” Jeongin sniffled in his arms but nodded his head against Woojin’s shoulder. Woojin held him for a little while longer.

“Now what classes are you struggling in?” he asked again, patting Jeongin on the back. Jeongin turned around on Woojin’s lap, but didn’t get off, and pulled the worksheet over.

“Chemistry and math,” he grumbled, leaning back against Woojin’s chest and glaring down at the worksheet like it had personally wronged him.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to do either of those,” Woojin admitted, looking at the worksheet, “but let’s see what we can do, kiddo. We can ask Seungmin to help you out a little bit later, too. That sound okay?” Jeongin nodded again and picked the pencil back up. Woojin gave his shoulder one last squeeze before they started to work on the paper together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo two updates in one day! What that means is i got bored and decided to upload another chapter before bed!!  
> Kudos and comments keep me young!  
> As always catch me on tumblr @acutest-angle


	6. Changbin: Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Changbin join Stray Kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Alone by Marmello  
> Warnings: child neglect and abuse, suicidal ideations, mentioned self harm

**16 years ago**

Changbin got his first computer when he was seven. It was a big, bulky desktop that took forever to turn on and had a loud fan, but it was the first and only thing his parents had ever purchased him.

His family was well-off, both of his parents held positions of power at some company that Changbin was too young to understand or care about. When they were home, they pretended Changbin didn’t exist and left him in the care of the household. The staff may be charged with his care, but none of them liked having to care for him in addition to their other tasks. They figured out that, as long as Changbin looked good in the public eye, they could ignore him just as much as his parents did. They delivered him one warm meal every day and would leave his clean clothes on his bed. The house was cold toward him.

Being in public was different. When they were in public, they had to protect their family name. They were a wealthy family after all. In the public eye, he had adoring parents who doted and cared for him endlessly. They showered him with affection and love. When he was younger, Changbin hadn’t understood the difference between public and home or why his parents treated him so differently.

He’d eventually learned that being in public was all a show.

The computer had been a way to keep him out of the common rooms of the house. He was usually quiet, either reading or working on homework or just sitting quietly, but his parents didn’t like to see him. They figured the computer would give him enough entertainment that he wouldn’t feel compelled to venture into the living room or library in search of books or company. 

Changbin was fairly certain they’d only had a child because it was expected of everybody in their social bracket. 

When the staff had brought him the computer his parents had bought, they coldly instructed him that he was not to leave his room except for school after which he was to come right back. Changbin nodded along with what they said, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the ground. 

He didn’t know what to do with the computer at first. He tried playing some video games he bought from the local video store but soon learned that they were too loud for his parents' liking. Children were to neither be seen nor heard in the household after all. 

After the failed video game experiment, Changbin had no idea what to use his computer for. 

It took a couple of weeks before he decided to open the word processor that came on the computer. He stared at the white screen, unsure what to write, then just started typing any words that came to his head. It was just a seven year old’s stream of consciousness, but it was something to do.

Changbin eventually found that he enjoyed typing. It was a skill he was allowed to improve because it was quiet and still and kept him hidden away in his room. He spent his days teaching himself how to type, sometimes typing the same sentence over and over and over again he could type it with his eyes closed.

He started timing himself, typing sentences as fast as he could and then checking accuracy and time. It became a game he could play by himself. He kept an “official leaderboard” of his fastest times pinned over his desk.

When Changbin was scouring his school library for books to transcribe, he wandered into a portion of the library he had never been before. There was a book on the shelf that caught his eye. It was dusty like it hadn’t been touched in a long time. Changbin pulled the book off the shelf and immediately planted himself on the ground, book open in his lap.

The school’s librarian was reshelving books when she found him there. She kindly told him that the library was closed, and he needed to go home. Changbin agreed amicably, keeping his eyes on the threadbare carpet.

That night,  _ Programming Basics: C++  _ weighed Changbin’s backpack down.

**4 years later**

Changbin got his first laptop when he was eleven. It wasn’t anything fancy, nothing he owned was, but it was better than the ancient desktop that was on its last leg of life. Any free time that Changbin had outside of school and his obligatory perfect-Seo-son public appearances was spent in his room coding. When he found that first book all of those years ago, he’d fallen in love with it.

He spent about a year just learning the basics of coding. Creating simple games and other small programs. Then he had found a book on hacking when he was browsing books in the library again, and he fell in love all over again.

At first, he would only hack into practice systems and dummy software. He even went so far as to create his own weak firewalls that he would practice on. 

Then he got braver and tried hacking into the school system. When he finally did it, he simply sat in dumbfounded amazement. Snapping out of his stupor, he decided it would be nice to modify his attendance and grades. When he wasn’t caught, it served as the ego boost he needed to try harder hacks. 

He hacked into online games and would play with various global features and leaderboards, enjoying the outrage it caused when he would remove somebody from the top of it or would change some settings he didn’t understand. He even crashed the entire World of Warcraft server once -- granted it was on accident, but he liked to believe it was pure skill.

Changbin loved the feeling of being places he wasn’t allowed and seeing things he shouldn’t. But more than that, he loved the power to be able to manipulate anything he wanted to once he was there. It felt so good to not be meek and invisible for once. To not be so worthless. 

While Changbin had found solace and happiness in his coding over the past few years, the household staff and his parents had taken to acting as if he were invisible. They would lock him out of the house and not serve him a meal for several days at a time. When they did see him, they would roll their eyes or scoff in disgust.

Some of the staff would even hit him if they saw him in their way.

Changbin dismissed it any time it happened, knowing that if he were in their place he’d probably do the same. He had long ago accepted that he was a worthless waste of space whose only purpose was as an accessory for his parents.

The scars that littered the inside of his arms were a painful reminder that nobody really cared about him beyond appearances. Nobody really saw him. Nobody would notice if he was gone.

A staff bustled into his room, throwing him a disgusted glare before hanging a suit on his closet door.

“Your parents wanted me to tell you that there is a dinner tonight, and they expect you to be in the car at 7:00 sharp.” And with that, she was gone. A glance at the time told Changbin that he would have approximately 15 minutes to get ready before his parents expected him.

That barely gave him enough time to pull on his suit and sloppily tie his tie. His dad would make a show of fixing it in front of the cameras later anyway, he thought bitterly. He was careful to not crease or wrinkle the fine material of the suit as he pulled on his shoes, fixed his hair, and ran down the stairs to the car. 

The dinner was horribly boring. Changbin wasn’t the only kid there, but he didn’t know the other kids nor was he allowed to go over and play with them. He sat silently beside his mother as people would comment now how polite he was and how nice his suit looked and what nice manners he had, causing his mother to preen and pinch his cheeks. At one point somebody asked how old he was and his mother told them that he’d just turned nine. 

Changbin thought back to his eleventh birthday a couple of months ago. He’d spent it alone in his room with his computer.

When they finally got home again, he slipped through the door behind them, grateful that he wouldn’t have to climb through the window in his fancy suit and risk ripping it. Before his parents or the rest of the staff could see him, Changbin hurried off to his small room hidden away at the back of the house.

Finally alone, Changbin carefully hung up the suit -- the tailor was a mean man who didn’t like to see his clothes ripped or wrinkled -- and then sprawled on his bed with his laptop. He opened the CCTV feed that he watched every night before bed. The cats and dogs in the local pound rested peacefully in their bare cages.

‘They’re just like you,’ Changbin thought as his eyes drifted closed. ‘Unwanted and unlovable.’ Then he fell into a fitful sleep.

**1 year later**

Changbin sat hunched in the principal’s office. They’d finally caught him hacking the school’s system when he’d changed one of his failing grades so he wouldn’t have to repeat the class. He hadn’t said anything to their accusations or questions, simply keeping his eyes glued firmly on the desk with his hands twisting together anxiously. The skin around his fingernails was almost bloody from being picked at. Nobody cared what he had to say anyway.

When they threatened to call his parents, Changbin almost laughed. Let them. He hadn’t left his room, much less seen them, in nearly 4 months. His parents didn’t care what he did as long as it was quiet and out of the way.

His mother had sounded appropriately shocked and appalled on the phone. She had said things like, “Not  _ my _ Binnie!” and “He would  _ never _ . He’s such a good little boy.” Changbin would have scoffed at her insincerity if he hadn’t been too afraid to move.

Now he was silently waiting for his parents to show up. They would probably be furious that he had interrupted their workday and sullied the family name. Changbin felt himself begin to bleed where he was picking at his nails, but he couldn’t stop.

His parents both showed up a few minutes later. His father looked appropriately stern and angry and his mother looked appropriately frazzled and concerned. She fretted over him while his father spoke with the principal regarding punishment. It was all very surreal to hear his parents say his name and acknowledge his existence so many times in such a short period without the presence of cameras and press.

When the principal announced they would have to suspend him for a week beginning immediately, his father had roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the office. The ride back to his house was silent, both of his parents look angrier than Changbin had ever seen them before. Changbin trembled in the backseat, twisting his fingers together so tightly it hurt and picking at the bloody scab on his thumb.

When they got home, he was ready to retreat to his bedroom, but his father stopped him.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” his father asked angrily. Both of his parents stood with their arms crossed, staring down at him as though he were a bug they wanted to squash.

Changbin didn’t reply, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. He hid his hands in his sleeves and clutched them tightly shrinking in on himself. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he would just disappear.

“Do you have any idea how much you have tarnished this family’s name?” His voice grew angrier as he spoke. Changbin willed himself not to flinch.

“We won’t be able to show our faces anywhere after this little stunt of yours.” That was his mother. She sounded hysterical. Changbin wished the universe would swallow him whole. 

“Are you listening to us, boy?!” His father’s angry voice boomed through the entire house. Changbin couldn’t stop the flinch this time. Nodding quickly, he lowered his head more and gripped his sleeves tighter.

“You are a disgrace to this family.” His father spoke clinically. “I thought that you would be more grateful to us for housing and feeding you for all of these thankless years.” Changbin could feel himself shaking. Tears threatened to leak from his eyes that were still locked on his father’s immaculately polished shoes.

“A disgrace to this family’s name. Of all of the children that we could have had, we had an ungrateful, worthless, delinquent.” Changbin felt like he couldn’t breathe. His entire body felt numb and his vision swam dizzyingly in front of him. He felt like he was going to pass out.

“Did you even for a moment stop to think about how your actions would affect the people who have given you so much for so long?” His father’s tone slowly grew increasingly angrier as he went on. A stray tear escaped Changbin’s eye and slid down his cheek. Changbin didn’t dare to reach up and wipe his cheek.

“If we hadn’t needed you, we would have abandoned you a long time ago.” That was his mother’s icy voice. The world felt like it was closing in on him. He had always known that his parents hated him, but to hear them say it so directly hurt in a way that he could never have imagined. 

“You’re lucky we cannot abandon you now,” his father said coldly. “I don’t want to see you at all around this estate again, understood?” Changbin couldn’t find his voice, and he regretted it immediately.

“Are you so dumb that you can’t even speak now?” Changbin was trembling now. 

“It’s probably for the better that you don’t speak. Nothing you say would be worthwhile anyway.” Changbin wasn’t sure which of his parents was speaking anymore, just that every word rubbed salt into a wound that Changbin thought had scabbed over.

His parents left him standing alone in the living room. He really was worthless, he couldn’t even get himself to leave the living room. He stood still as a statue willing himself to stop crying until one of the staff came in and shooed him out of the living room, complaining about the mess that he was making.

Changbin miraculously made it to his room before his legs gave out under him. As soon as he hit the ground, violent sobs racked his body and he curled in on himself.

Worthless. Unwanted. Unloved. Disgraceful. A waste of space. Dumb.

Everything his parents had said was true, and Changbin knew it. He was just like those poor animals that nobody wanted at the pound. 

Eventually, the sobs receded a bit and Changbin was able to pull in a shaky breath. He stayed curled on the ground, holding his legs tightly to his chest. 

The animals at the pound that weren’t adopted, the truly unwanted ones, were euthanized. They ended up dead. Maybe that was how Changbin should end up now.

Pulling himself off the floor, Changbin dragged himself over to his desk. Carefully, he slid open the drawer containing his razor blades and his stash of sedatives. The blades he had carefully taken from old pencil sharpeners, and the pills his parents used to tell the staff to give him with his meals to keep him quiet and calm. He’d stopped taking the pills when he’d gotten his first computer and he’d realized that they made him feel foggy.

Now he had a stockpile.

He stared down at the pills, opting to ignore the blades beside them. He wasn’t sure when he’d started shaking again. With trembling fingers, he picked up a handful of pills. He was small for his age, so it was plenty to do the job. Changbin figured it would hurt less than the blades.

The pills seemed to rattle in his hand because of how hard he was shaking. All he had to do was take them, then he’d be out of his parents’ lives. He’d finally stop being so worthless.

The pills scattered across the ground as another violent sob overtook his entire body. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even bring himself to stop being a waste of space. The word disgraceful echoed over and over in his head. 

He needed to get out of here.

Grabbing his backpack, he emptied its contents and stuffed it with some clothes and his laptop. He was certain his parents wouldn’t even notice his absence. 

The walk out of his house was nerve wracking. Every sound conjured images of angry staff finding him. Every step sent shooting pain through his entire body. He walked as far as the bus stop before he had to stop and sit down. The cold air stung his face and exposed arms, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care that he’d left his coat hanging in his closet at home. When the bus came, the driver gave him an odd look but accepted the bus pass and let him sit. Sitting at the back of his bus, Changbin clutching his backpack and rode the bus of the line.

His parents were probably home by the time the driver announced “end of the line,” but he wasn’t expecting any sort of runaway or missing child report to be made. They’d probably tell everybody they sent him to boarding school or the military assuming they noticed he was missing at all.

He limped around aimlessly until he stumbled upon a motel that looked like it was on the verge of foreclosing. The attendant giving him a strange look when he requested a room for 3 weeks but didn’t mention his bloodied and swollen face. The key to the room felt heavy in his hand. 

Changbin knew that he couldn’t stay here forever, but for now, he just needed a cool shower and warm bed. After washing the blood off of his body, Changbin crawled into bed. Thanking any god that may be listening that this place had working wifi, Changbin pulled up the feed of the pound and fell asleep with a familiar mantra swirling through his mind.

For the next three weeks, Changbin rarely left his hotel room save for getting food when the hunger pains became too much. In the room, he spent his time hacking. His first project was hacking into the school system to officially withdrew himself. After that, he started trying bigger projects -- banks and various large-scale companies turned into fun practice exercises. 

One day, while hacking into some random company that he’d never heard of, an idea dawned on him. Maybe, the reason for the cruel treatment from his parents was the product of an evil organization that they worked for. In movies, the people who worked for corrupt companies were the cruelest of all. He could expose the corruption and become a hero!

Hacking into his parents’ company was a lot more difficult than Changbin had initially given it credit for -- a fact that only served to confirm Changbin’s theory that they were evil.

By the end of his initial three weeks, Changbin hadn’t even managed to bypass the first firewall. When he had gone down to pay for another month, the hotel attendant told him that he wouldn’t be able to stay here anymore because he couldn’t keep housing runaways. As far as Changbin could tell, he was the only client right now. Plus, he’d been keeping an eye on the police reports, and nobody was looking for him. Despite all of that, Changbin simply nodded his head and went to pack his things.

He was officially homeless.

He spent a day in some fast food place down the street until they kicked him out. Luckily for him, he had been able to create himself a fake lease for some apartment building down the street. It had been surprisingly easy to do actually.

He walked into the main office and put on his best scared-kid-who-doesn’t-want-to-get-in-trouble face and spun a tale about how he’d lost his key on his way home from school and his parents absolutely couldn’t find out and he needed another ASAP and yes the $10 charge is fine thank you. It was all so devastatingly easy to do, especially with that pretty lease that he already had in the system.

When he settled in, he mooched one of his neighbor’s wifi -- people should really make better passwords -- and kept the power off as much as possible to keep the bills low. It wasn’t necessarily that his money was running low, it was that he was scared of what he would do when it  _ did _ run out.

Within the first couple of days that he lived there, Changbin discovered a small convenience store that sold his favorite snacks and instant foods for really cheap prices.

To occupy his time in his small apartment, Changbin resumed trying to hack into his parents’ company. In the time that it took him to find this place and settle, he had convinced himself fully that that company was pure evil and was probably run by some supervillain set on world domination.

It took another week for him to finally bypass the series of firewalls. Excitement bubbled inside of him as he started to look through all of the files that had become available to him. The excitement petered out quickly as he found that all of the files were just normal, boring business operations. There was nothing evil about the company. His parents were evil, yes, but the company was just a normal company.

Changbin snapped his laptop shut in frustration and stretched out on the bed in his small room. It made sense to him, but he didn’t want to accept it. Pulling his laptop over to himself again, he pulled up the cameras of the pound. The grainy pictures of the morose dogs and cats calmed something in him and he soon drifted into a fitful sleep.

Changbin stayed locked away in his apartment out of sight for nearly a year. He didn’t make any friends, not that that bothered him because he’d never had a friend in his life. He didn’t talk to his neighbors, again this didn’t bother him. He never spoke to his landlord because he paid the rent online after decided it would be a bad idea to engage too much with the man he was currently fooling with a fake lease.

Being so young, Changbin was scared to use the kitchen, afraid that he’d burn down the whole building. He got all of his food in the instant variety from the nearby convenience store. 

A few months later, he ran into a kid, probably not that much younger than himself, who looked intent on robbing Changbin’s only food source.

It took a little bit of convincing, but the kid eventually agreed not to rob the place. Changbin wasn’t sure what possessed him to offer the kid -- Jisung -- a place to stay, but he couldn’t take back the words once they had been said.

Changbin expected Jisung to move in and ignore him completely as he was used to, but after about a month of Jisung jumping every time they saw each other, he got used to his presence and even started talking to him. It shocked Changbin at first, but he grew used to the stilted, awkward conversations. Changbin noticed that as Jisung became more comfortable around him, their conversations became longer and less awkward.

At first, Changbin found it jarring to have somebody that cared about him, but eventually, he got used to it. He began to think of what it would be like to lose Jisung, and these thoughts nearly immobilized him with fear.

They became closer as the months went on, and by nine months of Jisung living with him, Changbin thought that maybe he’d made his first friend. It felt nice.

Changbin felt wanted for the first time in his life.

The money situation had gotten a little tight recently, after having to support both of them on small, unnoticeable wire transfers from random bank accounts. Changbin wasn’t necessarily worried, but he’d never had to worry about money before so he wasn’t sure how. All he knew was that he _really_ didn’t want it to run out. 

And when Jisung came in and proposed becoming thieves, the allure was just too much for Changbin to resist. He’d gotten quite good at what he did on the computer, and he wanted to put it to the test.

He’d agreed with very little prompting from Jisung and immediately set to work, looking for their first hit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> Kudos and comments keep me alive  
> As always hit me up on tumbler @acutest-angle!!


	7. Stay With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Stay With Me by Ayokay  
> Warnings: drug use, mild sexual content

**Present Day**

The job request was stressing Chan out. Chan had been sitting on his bed staring at the wall for over an hour thinking about the cryptic job request. They couldn’t turn it down, that he was sure of, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

They didn’t do hits. It made Chan nauseous to think about making the kids kill people. It was one thing for collateral damage to happen during another job, but a hit was deliberate and Chan didn’t like that.

The gang that they had to bring down wasn’t a very big one, so it wouldn’t present much of a challenge, but it was big enough that he wouldn’t be able to do it alone or even with just Woojin. 

It was stressing him out.

Chan sat for a while longer, staring at the wall and stewing in his thoughts, before he finally decided to do something to calm his racing thoughts. Leaning over to the small nightstand, Chan fished out a small box.

Loading his bowl, Chan lit his pipe and inhaled deeply. Closing his eyes, Chan held his breath for as long as he could before exhaling slowly. Time distorted and Chan had no idea how much time had passed by the time he finished his third bowl. His limbs felt heavy and his mind was blanketed in a warm calm. Placing the pipe back in the box, Chan set it back on the nightstand and reclined back on his bed.

There was a light knock at the door and it cracked open a little bit. Chan rolled his head to the side to look at the door. He registered the curse as the door shut itself again. It sounded like… Hyunjin? 

Chan blinked at the door for a while, not able to understand exactly what happened. Hours later it seemed, Chan’s eyes drifted away from the door and toward the ceiling. A beam of sunlight shone through the window and the smoke danced playfully in the light.

Chan stared at the smoke in awe. It danced so elegantly, swirling toward the ceiling and then coming back down. It looked like it was trying to make shapes, but it couldn’t quite complete the shape. Eventually, the shapes just turned to swirls.

The smoke circled around itself in the light. 

The door cracked open again, causing the smoke to change its predetermined shape. It took Chan a minute to realize that the disruption in the smoke wisps and the door opening probably meant somebody was walking into the room. Focusing hard, Chan rolled his head to the side and directed his eyes at the door. 

Woojin had stepped into the room and was leaning against the closed door, watching Chan with a look that he couldn’t quite figure out. Chan stared at him for a moment before a smile spread across his face. He liked Woojin a lot. 

“Oh, Chan,” Woojin sighed. There was a tone in his voice that Chan didn’t have the energy or frame of mind to decipher. Woojin pushed himself off the door and walked to the bed. He sat beside Chan. Chan was laying down, but he wasn’t sure when that had happened. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Woojin, transfixed by his beauty.

Woojin pulled Chan’s head into his lap, gently running his fingers through Chan’s hair, scraping his nails gently along his scalp. Chan couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his mouth as he relaxed into Woojin’s lap. He could stay like this forever, the warmth of the high relaxing his mind and the warmth of Woojin’s caress relaxing his body.

“What’s wrong, Chan?” Woojin asked gently. Chan pried his eyes open. When had he closed them? How long had they been like this?

“Why are you high?” Woojin asked. Chan wasn’t sure if he was reminding Chan of the question or if he was continuing his sentence. Chan blinked at him for a minute before opening his mouth. He stared really hard at Woojin, focusing on forming the words that he wanted to say.

“I don’t like the job,” Chan finally said, proud that he had gotten an entire sentence passed his lips. The gentle strokes of Woojin’s fingers on his scalp distracted Chan from Woojin’s face and his eyes slipped closed again.

He felt Woojin’s body vibrate as he hummed in response to what Chan said. The movement filled Chan’s heart with warmth.

“Why don’t you?” Woojin asked. Chan couldn’t figure out why Woojin was still asking him questions; he was too high for this conversation right now. Chan rolled over, smashing his face into Woojin’s hip. It smelled nice. It smelled like Woojin. Chan giggled at his thoughts.

Woojin’s fingers still stroked through Chan’s hair gently.

“Chan,” Woojin coaxed above him. Chan didn’t want to hear it. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. His mind was too far away from his body for this. His mind was way up with the smoke wisps, but his body was here, pressed against Woojin. 

Instead of replying, Chan pressed his lips to Woojin’s hip.

“Chan,” Woojin said more firmly. His finger had stopped moving through Chan’s hair at some point. Chan missed the movement. Chan liked it when Woojin touched him. 

“Distract me,” Chan managed to get out, fingers moving to splay across Woojin’s stomach, the other reaching around and tracing patterns on Woojin’s back. When Woojin didn’t react, Chan felt himself sit up and straddle his lap.

He was at a better angle to look at Woojin’s face, and he stilled as stared at Woojin for a moment, awestruck by his beauty. Chan’s hands were resting on Woojin’s solid waist, his thumbs rubbing small circles on the hip bones.

“Please.” It was barely louder than a whisper. Slowly, he pushed Woojin’s shirt up over his head, his hands sliding up his chest as he went. Woojin let him, a look Chan was way too high to decipher on his face. 

Once he had pulled the shirt over Woojin’s head, he was again struck by how gorgeous he looked. God, he loved Woojin so much. 

At some point, Chan really, really wasn’t sure when Woojin’s hands had fallen from his hair and were now resting on Chan’s knees. They felt warm. Chan loved it when Woojin touched him. 

Chan dipped his head down, pressing kissing along Woojin’s collar bone. Biting down near the junction of Woojin’s neck, he reveled in the shiver he felt course through Woojin below him. Chan worked his way up Woojin’s neck, stopping to suck a mark on Woojin’s jaw behind his ear. 

“Chan,” Woojin said delicately, hands coming up to gently grab Chan’s face. Chan didn’t resist Woojin’s touch as he gently guided his face so that they were looking at each other. Chan wasn’t sure he could resist, he wasn’t sure he remembered how.

“All of the kids are home,” Woojin reminded him. The look in his eyes was significant, but the significance was carried away from Chan like a wisp of smoke. Chan leaned forward, capturing Woojin’s lips in a kiss. Woojin kissed him back immediately, his hands still warm on Chan’s cheeks. Chan nipped at Woojin’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth.

“Chan,” Woojin said, pulling back. Chan shivered a bit at the lack of contact. Woojin’s thumbs gently stroked Chan’s cheeks and he hummed and leaned into Woojin’s hands, losing himself in the soft hands on his cheeks. Chan loved it when Woojin touched him. 

“They’re always home,” Chan mumbled when he found his words. He leaned forward and captured Woojin’s lips in another kiss. His fingers skirted down Woojin’s bare torso, tracing the top of his jeans. His fingers dipped below the top of the jeans, tugging at the fabric.

“Chan stop,” Woojin said firmly, pulling back and captured both of Chan’s hands in his. Chan blinked at him slowly, his mind not quite understanding the situation, but he sat back no less. 

“You know I don’t like doing this when you’re high.” Chan’s gut clenched guiltily, and he rolled off of Woojin’s lap, falling heavily on the bed. His eyes found the smoke again, watching it dance. Woojin sighed, pulling Chan’s head back into his lap and resumed carding his fingers through Chan’s hair.

“You need to pull yourself together,” Woojin started talking again. Chan’s eyes had slipped closed, not that he noticed until he forced them open to look up at Woojin who was staring down at him with a look that Chan was too high to figure out. Why did Woojin have to keep being so confusing right now?

“They’re all looking to you for support and leadership.” Woojin’s voice was gentle as Chan blinked up at him. He’d really fucked up, hadn’t he? It had all been too much all at once. He just wanted all of the kids to be safe and happy. He didn’t want to make them kill people.

“I’m sorry,” Chan whispered, not looking away from Woojin’s beautiful, kind eyes. He didn’t think he’d be able to say anything more than that. Woojin leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Chan’s forehead.

“You spooked Hyunjin earlier. He thought you were having a breakdown, which I supposed wasn’t far from the truth,” he murmured against Chan’s forehead. So it had been Hyunjin he’d heard early. Chan just hummed, relaxed into Woojin’s comforting hold feelings his body grow heavy.

“You should sleep now,” Woojin said. Chan vaguely registered that Woojin had sat up, but Woojin’s fingers still ran comfortingly through Chan’s hair. “We’ll talk about this more when you’re sober.” Chan hummed softly, not finding the energy to figure out how to speak. Again, he buried his face in Woojin’s hip, this time just breathing in Woojin’s comfortably, familiar scent. 

Chan felt sleep creep into his tired, comfortable mind and his warm, comfortable body. Woojin hummed softly above him, his fingers still stroking against Chan’s head. Chan didn’t want to sleep, afraid of the nightmares that hid in his sleeping mind. Afraid of the nightmares that would still be there when he woke back up.

“It’s going to be okay,” Woojin said softly. Finally, the pull of sleep became too strong for Chan to resist.

~~~

After the meeting with Chan, Felix found himself once again alone in his room. He lay on the bed, Jisung’s pillow clutched to his chest, staring at his gun that lay cold on the nightstand. The news of the job really felt like a well-placed punch to the abdomen.

It wasn’t necessarily that Felix had a problem with killing people, a hit was a familiar job after all. No, what he had a problem with was what happened to his mind whenever he did kill people. He would slip away from the present and would land in a place that he would like to never go back to ever again.

He always felt awful when he came back to the present. He didn’t like killing people, he could, but it always made him sick once he was back in his right mind. It was too much of a reminder of everything that The Organization had done to him. 

A light knock pulled Felix from his thoughts. Looking away from the gun, Felix watched as Jisung stepped carefully inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. Felix tracked him with his eyes, watching how his body moved when he walked.

Felix liked the way he walked because it was so different from anything that he’d known before. At The Organization, everybody moved with a sort of silent, practiced precision that they were taught from the very first day of training. Jisung moved like somebody ready to fight the entire world with only his bare fists. It was self-assured and confident and what it lacked in training and knowledge, it made up for in experience. Felix found the way Jisung moved captivating.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Jisung teased, coming over and settling beside Felix’s curled body on the bed. Felix just grinned at him, pulling himself into a sitting position and setting the pillow aside. Jisung seized the opportunity to forcibly rearrange their bodies so Felix was settled in his lap with his legs locked around Felix’s waist. Jisung’s fingers started to gently rub at Felix’s shoulders, and Felix let his head fall forward as he felt Jisung working the tension out of his shoulders.

“You should stop sparring with Hyunjin so much,” Jisung said lightly, his fingers working the knots out of Felix’s neck. “It makes you so tense.” 

“You should stop hiding yourself away in Changbin’s office working on secret hit requests that you guys don’t feel the need to tell any of us about,” Felix retorted, lifting his head to look over his shoulders. “It makes you undesirable.” Jisung snorted and poked Felix’s cheek, gently pushing it so that he was facing forward again.

“Nothing makes me undesirable.” Jisung sounded so self-assured that Felix couldn’t help but chuckle. 

They lapsed into a stretch of silence after that. Felix’s eyes drifted back to the gun resting on the nightstand, his thoughts buzzing distractingly in his head. Despite the general noise, they all seemed to be about the job. The kill mission.

“What’s on your mind?” Jisung questioned lightly, almost like he could hear Felix thinking.

“I was just thinking about the job,” Felix confessed, eyes still locked on the gun. Jisung must have seen where he looked because his fingers stilled a bit before they resumed their massage. 

“Are you scared?” Jisung always asked his questions so directly, something Felix was grateful for because he never learned the complicated steps of the social dances most navigated with ease.

“Not scared,” Felix said softly, prying Jisung’s legs from around him so that he could turn around and face Jisung cross-legged. Jisung let his hands fall to Felix’s knees as he pulled his legs in to match Felix’s posture. Felix stared hard at Jisung’s hand on his knee, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. He knew that Jisung was waiting for him to speak again.

“I’m not scared,” Felix repeated, sure what he was feeling wasn’t fear. “I’m just… a little bit worried I’ll slip.” Jisung looked at him in confusion for a moment before his eyes lit up with understanding.

“We’ll all be there with you, Lix,” Jisung said reassuringly, his thumb rubbing circles on Felix’s knee. “We’ll make sure that you stay present.” Jisung’s naive reassurances were like a breath of fresh air, even if they rang hollow. If Felix slipped, nobody would be able to keep him in the present.

“If you’re there I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on anything else other than your obnoxious voice,” Felix teased. 

“More like you won’t be able to focus on anything but my drop dead good looks.”

“You’re looks could cause something to drop dead.”

Jisung made an offended noise and hit Felix’s knee making Felix laugh harder. It was nice to be sitting here with Jisung laughing. It’d been a while.

Once his laughter died down, Felix felt Jisung’s warm hands cup his cheeks and direct his eyes to meet his own.

“You shouldn’t worry,” Jisung said, eyes uncharacteristically serious. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Felix let the moment hang in the air for a second before reaching forward and covering Jisung’s eyes.

“The serious look doesn’t suit you,” Felix explained as Jisung made a sound of confusion and let his hands drop.

“We were having a  _ moment _ ,” Jisung whined, pulling Felix’s hand away from his eyes and pouting at him.

“And you made it weird by getting all serious,” Felix replied with a shrug. Jisung said something that sounded something like ‘oh my  _ god _ ,’ but Felix wasn’t entirely sure because in the same moment he also tackled Felix and pinned him to the bed, tickling him aggressively. Felix shrieked and half-heartedly tried to dislodge Jisung, knowing that if he actually wanted to he could easily.

“This is what you get for  _ ruining that moment _ ,” Jisung giggled as he continued the attack. It had really been too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed my kind of short fluffly little chapter!  
> Thank you all for reading!!! <3  
> Kudos and comments fill my lungs with air  
> As always find me on tumblr @acutest-angle


	8. Lost the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious job request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Lost the Game by Two Feet  
> Warnings: violence, kidnapping

“Does everybody know what they need to be doing?” Chan asked over the com. The com was distracting and annoying and Jeongin didn’t like it, especially when he was trying to work. A chorus of exasperated “yes”s and one lone “Chan will you shut up and stop worrying so much” sounded through the com. 

Neither Jeongin or Woojin confirmed as they walked down the street, Woojin’s hand tightly gripping Jeongin’s bicep. For his part, Jeongin was struggling against Woojin’s hold, making a big show but putting in no real effort. 

Their part of the plan was simple enough. Woojin would “kidnap” Jeongin and attempt to sell him off to this gang. While the other gang is sufficiently distracted by the transaction, Chan, Felix, Hyunjin, and Jisung would ambush them and take them out. Seungmin and Minho would be waiting in the getaway van together for when it was all over, and Changbin was keeping watch over CCTV from back home.

It was a simple plan. In, distract, hit, out.

The place that they had arranged the deal was a large storage warehouse with lots of boxes and containers everywhere providing excellent coverage and hiding places. It was also creepy as hell to walk into. Jeongin was not a fan.

“Make it more believable,” Woojin said under his breath. His face was all business as they made their way into the warehouse. Jeongin felt Woojin’s grip tightening on his arm painfully as he was roughly pushed ahead of him.

Jeongin hated kidnapping scenarios.

Forcing panic to build in his system, Jeongin started thrashing around in Woojin’s hold, prying at his hands and looking around desperately. They walked out into the open area in the middle of the building, and Woojin held onto him as he surveyed the empty area critically. Jeongin marveled at how different Woojin seemed when they were working, the soft person he was at home completely vanished beneath the hard exterior.

“I don’t like being stood up,” Woojin called lowly into the empty area. The tone of his voice sent a chill down Jeongin’s spine. Shrinking away from Woojin, Jeongin stopped thrashing and started to weakly pry at Woojin’s hand and whimper pathetically.

“We were just checkin’ out the deal to make sure it was legit,” a voice said, stepping out of the shadows. “Not every day somebody offers to sell you a kid.” Jeongin whimpered at his words, attempting again to pull out of Woojin’s hold. Woojin tossed Jeongin forward onto the cold cement floor. Jeongin didn’t even have to pretend to lose his footing because he was so caught off guard by the action he just fell to the ground halfway between Woojin and the other gang.

He didn’t like being alone so far away from Woojin.

“He’s a pain in my ass,” Woojin said, a cold, mirthless laugh punctuating his sentence. Jeongin kept his fearful eyes trained on the guys in front of him, afraid of what he’d see if he looked back at Woojin. The other guys laughed along with him. It sounded like a mean laugh. Jeongin  _ did not _ like being alone with them so close.

“What’s he able to do?” the guy that looked like the leader asked. He stepped up to Jeongin and roughly grabbing his face, inspecting him. Jeongin whimpered, attempting to get away. His touch felt like acid on Jeongin’s cheeks. He wanted to plant a nice firm kick into the man’s stomach, but he had to play the helpless and distressed victim.

He  _ hated _ kidnapping situations.

“Anything you want him to,” Woojin said conversationally. “He’s pretty flexible.” Jeongin blanched when he saw the excited looks that the other men were exchanging. Whimpering again, he tried his hardest to get out of the hold of the man still inspecting him. Damn, this guy was strong.

The man seemed satisfied and tossed Jeongin back to the ground. Jeongin fought the urge to crawl back toward Woojin and instead curled in on himself, looking between the Woojin and the other gang fearfully.

“We’ll take him,” the leader said, stepping back toward his group. Jeongin wanted to laugh at how easy everything about this was, they were so easy to fool with just a simple fake negotiation. Instead of laughing, a pathetic whimper left his lips. 

Jeongin subtly started crawling backward closer to Woojin, knowing that the next words out of Woojin’s mouth would be the signal for the others to start shooting. Being caught in the crossfire of a shoot out was not high on Jeongin’s bucket list.

“Show me the money and he’s yours,” Woojin said, an easy grin stretching across his face. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Jeongin shot to his feet and ran back toward Woojin. At the same time, gunfire broke out around him.

So far, everything was going exactly according to plan.

~~~

Hyunjin was crouched beside Felix is the shadows, watching them deal with rapt attention. His heart hurt seeing Jeongin act so helplessly, and his blood boiled as he watched the other man touch Jeongin. Felix’s hand was firmly wrapped around Hyunjin’s wrist, holding him back as he gritted his teeth watching the “transaction.”

When Woojin finally gave said the cue, Hyunjin raised his weapon and immediately fired several rounds at the other men. All he saw was red as he thought about them laying their disgusting hands on Jeongin. The red didn’t clear until he emptied his clip and needed to crouch back down to reload.

Popping back up, he saw three bodies with clean headshots and one with several shots to the chest. A few others were clutching at their legs or arms still too shocked to return fire.

Hyunjin vaguely registered that Felix had slipped away from him, moving stealthily to get a better vantage point somewhere. That probably wasn’t a good sign, Hyunjin thought distantly. He chose to ignore that train of thought as his eyes found Jeongin being hauled away by Woojin, both looking unharmed. Relief flooded Hyunjin’s whole body as he saw Jeongin’s pissed off glare directed at Woojin. If he was that angry, then he was fine.

Hyunjin returned his attention to the shoot out happening in front of him. Having control over himself once more, Hyunjin was able to shoot with more accuracy. His bullets hit shoulders, knees, and sides. It wasn’t enough to kill somebody, but it was enough to distract them and slow them down making the others’ job of picking them off easier.

Bullets rained down from everywhere. He saw Felix’s shots, deadly and precise coming from somewhere high up. He saw Jisung’s shots, less trained but no less deadly coming from cover not far away. He saw Chan’s shots, practiced accuracy coming from cover on Hyunjin’s other side. 

It was comforting to have so many people watching his back.

The shoot out petered off a bit as those still alive found their senses and with them found cover. Felix was still picking them off with relative ease, but Chan and Jisung were having significantly more trouble. Hyunjin couldn’t land a shot at all anymore. 

“I’m going to move closer to see if I can get a better angle,” Chan said over the com. The others confirmed, and Hyunjin saw Chan dart across the room, drawing fire from the other side, but also giving Felix and Jisung some better shots.

“How many are left?” Jisung asked. 

“I can’t tell for sure,” Changbin replied. “It looks like maybe 6 or 7 more.”

After a minute, it seemed that even Felix couldn’t get a shot anymore. The entire building descending into a tense, ringing silence punctuated by the occasional gunshot. 

“I’m going to try to draw them out,” Hyunjin decided.

“Be careful,” Jisung muttered, still clearly focused on trying to get a clear shot. Hyunjin fell back into the shadows and moved closer, attempting to remain unseen.

~~~

Chan didn’t like firefights against experienced shooters, especially when they were outnumbered. They always found cover and then it was a standoff and Chan just wanted it over. He wanted to finish the job and get everybody home safe, as hypocritical as that sounded.

This had been dragging out for too long, and it was setting Chan on edge. 

When Hyunjin announced that he was going to try to draw them out, Chan was all for it. They all knew that Hyunjin wouldn’t shoot a kill shot, but he had a sharp eye and he helped to slow people down. He was also fast and sneaky, so he was good at drawing people out. Despite never aiming to kill, he was nothing but an asset.

Chan had lost sight of both Jisung and Hyunjin when he had changed position to have a better angle of the other gang, so he just had to trust that Hyunjin would be okay as he changed position.

It worked well enough at first, Hyunjin was able to draw about 4 of them out enough that they were able to hit them. That left two or three by Changbin’s estimate which meant that they finally outnumbered the other gang, easing Chan’s nerves a bit. They were more than capable of taking out two or three more people.

A sharp gasp over the com drew Chan’s attention. It was cut off abruptly by a short crack followed by silence. That was not a good sign.

“Hyunjin, position report,” Chan instructed. The answering silence was all Chan needed to confirm his fears that something had gone wrong.

“Hyunjin’s com is offline,” Changbin reported, voice strained.

Shit.

Just as Chan was about to say something, movement caught his eye. A woman, barely shorter than Hyunjin, walked out into the center of the area. She had her arm locked around his neck, and it looked like a gun was pressed into his back.

While that sight was shocking in itself, it felt like the life was sucked out of Chan’s body when the woman positioned herself so that she was looking right at Chan despite his cover.

He knew her.

“Chan,” she called, voice dripping with honey and turning Chan’s blood to ice. “Please step out in the open. You were trained better than this.”

“Actually, I think my training specifically taught me to stay out of the direct line of fire,” Chan retorted, but he stood no less. The woman looked pleased as Chan made his way over to them. He chanced a glance at Hyunjin to check him for any injuries, but that just angered the woman who wound her arm tighter around Hyunjin’s neck. Chan’s eyes snapped back to hers as Hyunjin made a choking sound, his hands coming up to grip her arm.

A feline-like grin stretched across her face in response to Chan’s ice-cold glare.

“Let him go,” Chan said lowly, raising his weapon toward her. He couldn’t fire, she was smart and quick and he was already mostly aiming at Hyunjin. If he tried to shoot her, he’d hit Hyunjin instead. She must have known this if her growing grin was anything to go by.

“Why should I? The fun has only just begun after all.” Chan had to work hard to keep his eyes firmly locked with the woman’s as he heard Hyunjin choke again.

“Chan do something!” Jisung’s voice whispered harshly in his ear. Chan ignored him.

“You know,” the woman continued conversationally as Hyunjin clawed desperately at her arm around his neck, “I noticed this one doesn’t shoot to kill.” Chan carefully schooled his face into a neutral look, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was getting under his skin.

“The one up in the rafters, he’s professional. Just like what we wanted to make you, Channie. The one back behind you, he’s sloppy. A street urchin no doubt. And you,” she stopped, appraising him. “You’ve slipped.” Chan clenched his jaw.

“Let him go,” Chan said more deliberately this time. The woman just rolled her eyes at him.

“If you insist,” she said sounding bored. She tossed Hyunjin onto the floor. Chan watched in slow motion as, in the same motion, the woman raised her gun to Hyunjin and fired. In the same breath, Chan squeezed his trigger and a bullet hit her right between her eyes. Distantly, he heard a couple more gunshots, but all he could see was the woman’s cold, lifeless eyes still locked on his.

Jisung’s scream tore Chan out of his thoughts. Jisung had come out of cover and was clutching at Hyunjin’s still body.

Chan stood completely still, staring. He forgot how to breathe.

Red seeped steadily from Hyunjin’s chest, dripping between Jisung’s fingers and onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I broke my pattern of one chapter and then one background chapter, but both this chapter and the last one were kinda short. but like at the same time they didnt belong together  
> also sorry for not uploading yesterday! ill be uploading two chapters today to make up for it!!
> 
> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!!  
> lets all ring in the new year with comments and kudos!! love you all <3


	9. Hyunjin: Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Hyunjin end up with Stray Kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Save Me by Noah Kahan  
> Listen to Alice by Ice Nine Kills  
> Warnings: Implied sexual assault, drug addiction, child abuse, violence, drug use, alcohol use, panic attacks  
>   
> The sexual assault scene has been sectioned off by "*****" in case you would like to skip that part

**10 years ago**

When Hyunjin was 12, he stopped hanging out with Jisung. It wasn’t an all-at-once kind of thing. Gradually, over several weeks, Hyunjin just stopped. The older kids would invite Hyunjin out, and he couldn’t turn them down.

At the time, he didn’t even notice that he and Jisung had drifted apart entirely. 

It was around that time he also stopped going to school. The other kids thought it was lame when he told them he couldn’t hang out because of school, so he stopped going to school. He didn’t want them to think he was lame.

Hyunjin can remember the police coming to his house with truancy charges. His parents just pulled him out of school altogether after that, not wanting to deal with law enforcement again. His father had beat him for bringing the police to their home. The other kids thought he was cool for getting away from the police _and_ taking a beating.

Hyunjin liked that they thought he was cool.

The older kids started having him run for them pretty soon. They liked the idea of a kid running because a 12-year-old was less likely to get caught than a 17-year-old. 

At the time, Hyunjin thought it was cool. He wasn’t allowed to keep any of the money, but it didn’t bother him because the older kids would get him any snacks he wanted.

They thought he was cool for running for them. They made Hyunjin feel grownup. 

Soon after that, they started to offer Hyunjin the merchandise that they skimmed. It was just easy stuff at first. Mostly weed, but sometimes they would offer him shrooms or acid.

It didn’t take long for them to start offering him harder stuff. They gave him molly, special k, coke, and other things that Hyunjin didn’t know the names of.

Then they offered him pills.

The first time that Hyunjin took a pill, it was euphoric. Everything seemed brighter but also softer. Everything felt nice and easy and _good_. Hyunjin had never felt this good in his life.

He couldn’t get enough of them.

After that, everything kind of blurs together in patchy memories and bad feelings.

~~~

Hyunjin doesn’t really remember the next time that he saw Jisung. He remembers a feeling of excitement from that day. He remembers _seeing_ Jisung, but he’d also been playing around with acid earlier, so he was seeing a lot of things. He remembers cutting judgment and burning disappointment.

He remembers the sting of the alcohol. He remembers the wonderful dulling sensation of the pill. He remembers chasing that euphoria of his first time.

~~~

Hyunjin very clearly remembers the first time he ran for the big boss of the gang. He’d been 13 and he wanted money for himself. The older kids still bought him anything he wanted if they were around, but they weren’t always around.

And they never bought him pills.

So he ran a small job. It went well, he got his meager cut, and he left. Nothing memorable happened.

That is, until later that night. Some of the older kids heard about him running a job without them, and they came looking for him. When they found him… Hyunjin doesn’t entirely remember what happened but he woke up the next day covered in dried blood, throbbing bruises, and completely shocked he was still alive.

He spent a few days alone in that alley where he woke up, not really able to move. On the third day, he ran out of pills. The need drove him into motion and dulled the bodily pain he felt when he moved.

He needed those pills more than the pain told him he needed to be still.

Eventually, he fell in with a different group of teenagers. They didn’t buy him anything, so he kept running. It was easier this way.

**********

Hyunjin remembers one cold night just well enough to fuel his nightmares. He was 14 and had been running with the same group of teenagers for about a year now. They were all between 16 and 18 and they made Hyunjin feel older.

One night, much like most nights, they’d been passing around a handle of cheap vodka, a seemingly never-ending joint, and a bottle of pills. At some point in the night, most of the older kids had paired off, leaving Hyunjin to stare at the ceiling as he did so many other nights.

Then a body materialized over Hyunjin.

Hyunjin doesn’t remember specifics after that. He remembers hands. Teeth. A mouth. Warmth. Pain. Cold.

He remembers he spent the rest of the night crying in a corner.

He stopped hanging with those kids after that.

**********

Hyunjin kept running for the gang. He’d gotten bolder and had started stealing for himself now. Sometimes, none of the shipment would make it where it needed to go.

Those were the times that he was beaten within an inch of his life. Hyunjin never knew why they didn’t just kill him.

It took some time, but he fell in with a different group of teenagers. He was 15 now, and that meant he was old enough to be a real part of the group rather than the baby they took in to use.

This group was nicer than the last. They’d get high together -- not that Hyunjin spent much time sober anymore -- and they’d spar. One of the kids had trained in martial arts and liked to teach everyone else.

When they weren’t sparring, they were stealing from nearby stores. They played a game to see who could steal the most expensive thing. Or, as it often became, who could steal the most liquor. 

It was fun to hang out with these kids. They never forced him to do things he didn’t want to. They never talked about why he would sometimes jerk awake with a sob only to spend the rest of the night muffling his cries in his pillow. They never questioned how often he took the pills. They never asked why he would jump any time somebody touched him.

Hyunjin wasn’t sure if he remembered what happiness felt like, but it felt good that somebody had his back. Hyunjin wasn’t sure he felt safe, but he didn’t feel scared with them.

~~~

Hyunjin spent more than a year with them before something went horribly wrong. He’d taken more pills than he ever had before. He’d had more to drink than he normally did. Everything was a little bit blurry around the edge. Everything softened

Hyunjin doesn’t remember most of that night.

He remembers the blood. They’d been sparring like they often did, but something went wrong. There was too much blood.

He remembers how it coated his hands, his clothes, the ground around him. He remembers how sickeningly warm it felt. He remembers how it stuck to him even when he tried to wipe it off. It wouldn’t come off. It wouldn’t come off. God, why wouldn’t it come off?

He remembers cowering in the dark corner of the alley, staring at the body in front of him that all of the blood was coming from.

He remembers being alone.

Panic overtook every fiber of his body. He shook, hot tears streaming down his face and cutting through the blood. There was so much blood. 

He couldn’t breathe. His heart felt funny like when he did too much coke once and thought he was going to die. The dark around him felt like it was closing in, suffocating him more.

Hyunjin felt certain that he was going to die, and he couldn’t even rip his eyes away from the body in front of him. The body he’d somehow put there. He didn’t know how. There was too much blood.

And then something miraculous happened. Hyunjin was sure that it had to have been a hallucination, after all, he hadn’t done anything in his life to deserve that kind of kindness from the universe.

“Hyunjin?!” Jisung had sounded so scared as he had run to Hyunjin. Hyunjin was too lost in his panic to give Jisung his attention. Too convinced that Jisung was just a hallucination. Too focused on the body, the blood. So much blood.

Distantly, Hyunjin heard Jisung telling him how to breathe. Hyunjin didn’t think he was breathing at all, but he did what Jisung said if only to not disappoint him more. If only to wake up from this awful dream. Eventually, sensation came back to his body and he felt Jisung’s hands on his shoulder.

He didn’t flinch away.

“You’re not real.” His words were slurred. Distantly, he thought about how amazing it was he was able to speak at all. He still couldn’t look away from the rapidly cooling body. Couldn’t look away from the blood.

“Yes, I am, Jinnie.” Hyunjin probably would have started crying at the nickname if he hadn’t already been crying. It all felt like too much. The blood was cooling and caking on his skin now. There was too much of it.

The panic came back at full force and Hyunjin started rubbing desperately at his arms. He couldn’t breathe again. Too much blood.

Hyunjin doesn’t remember anything after that.

~~~

He woke up in a warm bed. It was softer than anywhere he had slept in years. He opened his eyes slowly, head pounding like a bass drum and feeling sick to his stomach. The need had settled heavily in his body.

Sitting up slowly, Hyunjin blinked around at his surroundings in confusion. He had never been here before. The room was small and sparsely decorated, but it was tidy and neat. Before Hyunjin could get out of bed to leave, the door opened and Jisung walked in.

Hyunjin was too shocked to move.

“I was so worried you’d never wake up,” Jisung sighed, his face relaxing in relief. He walked over to Hyunjin carrying a glass of water. Hyunjin just stared at him. Was this some sort of sick dream? Had he finally died?

“You do remember me, don’t you Hyunjin?” Jisung’s face fell. Hyunjin’s heart clenched. He nodded slowly.

“How did you find me?” he croaked, voice hoarse from disuse. When was the last time he’d had any water? When was the last time he’d eaten? Jisung pressed the glass of water into his hand gently before sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Do you remember last night?” The question was gentle. Careful.

Hyunjin felt sick thinking about the previous night. The room started to close in on him. He couldn’t breathe. Nausea climbed into his throat. He was going to be sick.

Jisung seemed to be able to see that and grabbed the glass from him before swiftly moving him to the bathroom.

‘He was always able to read you so well,’ Hyunjin thought distantly to himself as he shakily hugged the toilet.

Jisung had told him that he was allowed to stay here, but he’d have to give up the pills. Initially, he’d refused, unable to imagine life without the pills. But the memories of that night twisted his stomach into tight knots. He couldn’t go back out there. He couldn’t be alone again.

In the end, he’d agreed.

The next two weeks were spent in a waking hell. Most of his days were spent clutching the toilet as chills and nausea racked his body. 

Jisung’s presence beside him was a constant the entire time. His warm fingers brushing Hyunjin’s sweaty bangs off his forehand. His gentle hand rubbing comforting circles on his back as Hyunjin retched into the toilet. His solid presence there when Hyunjin couldn’t take it anymore, allowing Hyunjin to curl into his chest as chills and sobs caused him to shudder.

The few nights that Hyunjin was able to fall into the cold embrace of sleep, the nightmares would wake him up. Every time he would jerk awake, Jisung was there with soothing words whispered into his hair and strong arms wrapped around his body as he clung to Jisung and cried. On the nights Hyunjin woke up and couldn’t be touched, Jisung was there with a glass of water and soft reassurances while Hyunjin curled in on himself.

Jisung never asked about the nightmares, and for that, Hyunjin was grateful.

The two weeks ended eventually and with them so did most of the detox symptoms. Hyunjin still felt himself craving the pills, wanting to chase that blissful euphoria of the first time, but he had Jisung again so he did his best to ignore it. When they became too much to ignore, he sought Jisung out relishing in his comfort. Jisung would distract him from the cravings.

When the memories started to come back, Hyunjin also sought Jisung out. Jisung would pull him into tight hugs, gently moving them away from the others in the house. He would allow Hyunjin to cling to him for as long as he needed.

Hyunjin started smoking a lot. It didn’t help the cravings, but it was something to do. It was something he could feel.

Replace one addiction with another.

Jisung was always there to tell him to slow down a little or he’d make himself sick. Jisung was there to take the pack from his hands after he’d smoked through half of it in one sitting. Jisung was always there.

It took nearly three months, but Hyunjin healed some. He met the other -- Chan and Changbin -- and started to venture out of Jisung’s room beyond just seeking Jisung’s comfort. 

He befriended Chan easily enough, he reminded Hyunjin of the kids he would run with on the street. He was slower to befriend Changbin, not making much of an effort to seek out the reclusive boy.

Hyunjin knew not everything was better, he was still plagued by nightmares in his sleep and his body still craved the pills, but some things were better.

Better was all he needed right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or anyone you know is struggling with opioid misuse or addiction please get some help. It's a very serious issue, and it is very easy to overdose on opioids. The CDC has declared opioid misuse and overdose to be epidemic in the United States.  
> Opioid Misuse Treatment Resource: https://medlineplus.gov/opioidmisuseandaddictiontreatment.html  
> Responding to an Opioid Overdose: https://harmreduction.org/issues/overdose-prevention/overview/overdose-basics/responding-to-opioid-overdose/  
> There is never shame in reaching out for help or trying to help others.  
>   
> This chapter was a little heavier sorry guys  
> Thank you, everyone, for reading!!!! Kudos and comments are lovely!!!  
> and yeah i am really sorry about this chapter it kinda really hurts


	10. Come Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Come Down by Noah Kahan  
> Warnings: Panic attacks, cults mentioned,

**Present Day**

“What the _fuck_ is going on?!” Seungmin demanded into the com. His nerves were frayed, and he _needed_ to know what was happening. The only thing that he knew was that Hyunjin had somehow been held hostage, then there were two gunshots, then Jisung screamed. Seungmin was too afraid to try to come to any sort of coherent conclusion about what had happened. 

“Seungmin-” Jisung’s words were broken off with a hysterical cry. Seungmin was out of the car and running into the building before Minho had a chance to stop him.

The sight that greeted him when he got into the building stopped Seungmin cold in his tracks. Hyunjin lying unconscious on the floor, blood oozing between Jisung’s fingers where they were desperately clutching at his shoulder. Despite the carnage all around, Hyunjin was the only thing that Seungmin was able to see.

“Seungmin,” Jisung’s voice wavered. When he looked up, his eyes were wide and filled with tears. Something about how terrified and helpless he looked shook Seungmin to the core.

Suenmgin moved quickly after that, forcing his own emotions down. Now was not the time to think about how sick it made him feel to see Hyunjin laying there like that. Right now he needed to get a hold of himself and the situation.

“What happened exactly?” Seungmin asked, voice steady and professional as he stepped forward and gently nudged Jisung out of the way. The shirt was soaked in blood and it needed to come off. Mindful of the wound, Seungmin tore Hyunjin’s shirt away to reveal the bullet hole. 

“Jisung, what happened?” he snapped when he realized that Jisung wasn’t saying anything. Glancing over his shoulder, Seungmin confirmed his fear that Jisung looked like he was going into shock. He wouldn’t be able to get a grip on the situation if Jisung started to panic; he was only able to take care of one person at a time.

“Jisung!” Seungmin shouted. Jisung snapped out of whatever trance he had been in and blinked over at Seungmin. “What happened?” Seungmin was careful to speak slowly and dictate his words. Jisung stared at him for a long moment, and his eyes became glassy again. His legs gave out under him and he collapsed onto the ground shaking. Shit.

“Do _not_ panic, Han Jisung,” Seungmin snapped, Jisung’s head whipping up toward him. “I need you to stay here with me.” Jisung nodded rapidly, roughly scrubbing his hands over his face.

“I’m not really sure what happened.” Satisfied that Jisung had begun to speak, Seungmin turned his attention back to Hyunjin. Using the ruined shirt, he carefully ripped it to form strips of cloth to act as bandages.

“He was… He was being held at gunpoint one second and-and then the next the lady was throwing him down and sh-shooting him.” Jisung’s words came rapidly, it sounded like he was going to hyperventilate.

“It looks like the bullet went right through,” Seungmin said as he began to put the makeshift bandages over the still oozing wound. “And it doesn’t look like it hit anything major. I’m going to need your help to move him, Jisung.” When Seungmin looked over at Jisung again, he looked a lot paler.

“Do you think you can help me?” Seungmin asked, holding Jisung’s eye. Jisung nodded vigorously again. “Good. I’m going to finish putting on these bandages and then we are going to move him to the car so we can get him to the hospital. There isn’t much else I can do without proper equipment, and I think it would be best if we got a doctor to take a look at this.” Jisung nodded again. Seungmin finished bandaging as quickly as he could and then instructed Jisung on how they were going to carry Hyunjin.

They moved him out to the car as carefully as they were able and laid him across the backseat. Seungmin slid in after him, curling himself on the backseat floorboards, gripping Hyunjin’s hand tightly. He distantly heard Jisung get in the front and felt the car moving, but he had all of his attention focused on Hyunjin. Finally, he allowed himself to feel again.

Tears pricked at Seungmin’s eyes as he stared at Hyunjin. His throat was tight, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of fear or sadness. Gripping Hyunjin’s hand tighter between his, Seungmin bowed his head over their hands and, for the first time in years, he prayed.

The drive to the hospital felt like it took years. When they finally arrived, Seungmin forced himself to be professional again. Inside, he was quick to explain away any questions, providing fake names and fake insurance information. The number of questions that he had to answer before they took to stretcher out to collect Hyunjin wore on his already frayed nerves.

Finally, _finally_ , they were satisfied with the bullshit answers that Seungmin had been giving them and went out to get Hyunjin. Seungmin watched as they wheeled him passed, leaving the rest of them in the waiting room. Sometimes he really wished that he could just hurry up and graduate nursing school so he wouldn’t be left out here to speculate and worry.

With nothing to occupy him any longer, Seungmin sank into a chair and allowed his head to fall heavily into his hands. As the adrenalin faded away, Seungmin was left with only crushing exhaustion. Logically, he knew that the entire thing only took an hour maybe two, but it felt like he had just assisted in a six-hour surgery. 

Beside him, Minho and Jisung were speaking in low tones about something that he couldn't be bothered to listen to. As he let the familiar voices of his friends wash over him, he realized that somewhere along the way he had lost his com. Or maybe he took it out. He wasn’t sure. 

He sat there in the waiting room not moving his head from where it was cradled in his hands for a long while. Then, he felt a hand on his head, gently pushing his hair back.

Looking up, he saw Jeongin’s crestfallen face and pulled him down into his lap. Wrapping his arms tightly around him, Seungmin buried his face in Jeongin’s shoulder and let out a long breath. Jeongin relaxed in his arms, wrapping his arms around Seungmin’s shoulders. 

“He’ll be okay,” Jeongin whispered, resting his cheek against the top of Seungmin’s head. Seungmin just nodded and held on to Jeongin tighter.

Eventually, the doctors came back out and got them. Minho had left at some point, leaving just Seungmin, Jeongin, and Jisung to wait for the doctors to tell them how Hyunjin was doing.

The doctors told that he would be fine. The bullet had missed all of his major organs and his bones, clean in and out shot. They wanted to keep him for the night for observation, but he could go home tomorrow, provided he wore a sling and didn’t do anything too strenuous for several weeks. 

When they were led back to the room, Seungmin almost fell over upon seeing Hyunjin. They’d cleaned up the blood and he was less pale than he’d been. Keeping a death grip on Jeongin’s hand, Seungmin walked over to Hyunjin’s side and ran a gentle hand through his hair. Hyunjin looked peaceful as he slept in that hospital bed.

~~~

The air back at the apartment was heavy after everything that had happened during the job. It felt like everybody was afraid to speak, to address what had happened.

When Chan had made his way back to the office, he found Changbin glaring holes in the monitor of his computer. His fingers tapped lightly against the keyboard, not typing anything, just making them clack. Changbin didn’t respond well to jobs going wrong, being so far removed from what was happening made him feel useless.

“Who was that back there?” Changbin asked as Chan fell into the chair beside Changbin. Chan kept his eyes trained on the monitor in front of him, not looking over at Changbin.

“Somebody I used to run with,” Chan mumbled. The camera feeds of the now deserted building were still pulled up on the computer in front of them. 

“You mean in-”

“Yeah,” Chan cut him off before he could say it.

“Why was she there?” Changbin didn’t sound angry, just curious. Chan wished that he was more angry.

“I don’t know,” Chan replied, not taking his eyes off of the carnage that he saw on the video cameras. He wondered idly how long it would take for somebody to find all of those bodies.

The whole situation made no sense. It has been nearly seven years since Chan had last had contact with any of the people he used to run with. Why had they chosen now to come back? What did they want? What were they willing to do to get it? Chan felt like he was drowning in questions.

They called themselves The Family and it was more of a cult than a gang. They took in runaways and orphans and any kid who needed a place to stay. They promised hot meals, a warm bed, and a good education. When Chan had needed that, they’d taken him in. They trained him and taught him everything he knows.

Then he’d run away from them, and while they certainly weren’t happy about that, they weren’t angry enough to send people after him. After all, there was no shortage of lost teenagers that they could bring in to their Family. It didn’t make any sense that they were coming after him now.

Chan realized that Changbin had been talking for the entire time that he’d been staring at the security camera feeds.

“-and I think I know what they want.” Changbin finished. His eyes were sharply trained on Chan, and something told Chan that he knew he hadn’t been listening. Chan rubbed his eyes hard, attempting to clear thoughts of The Family away and focus on what Changbin was saying. Changbin sighed and started typing something when Chan looked up, the security footage was gone and there were dozens of documents instead. 

“I went through all of their computerized documents. For an organization with such a widespread electronic footprint, there weren’t very many of them-”

“Yeah no shit they’re a cult,” Chan couldn’t help but mumble. This whole situation was getting under his skin a lot more than he’d like to admit. 

“Anyway,” Changbin said, ignoring Chan’s comment. “It looks like they are having a little bit of an issue with people deserting.” 

Changbin kept talking, but Chan didn’t need to hear it. They wanted him to come back. Chan felt lightheaded. They’d shot Hyunjin because they wanted Chan to come back. Chan was the reason that Hyunjin was shot.

Chan couldn’t figure out if he was breathing. He didn’t think he was. His vision felt like it was getting dark around the edges -- always a good sign. Chan felt a hand on his shoulder, but the only thing he could see was the insignia of the cult emblazoned on the screen. He wasn’t sure if it was still on the screen, but it was seared onto his eyes just like it had been seared onto his hip.

Chan was sure he wasn’t breathing anymore.

His entire goal in bringing everybody together was to make a better place for them. Make a place that was safe for them. Being the reason that one of them got _shot_ was the opposite of safe. There was nothing better about being shot.

Everything was black except for the insignia.

Why was it so hard to breathe?!

Chan felt like he was dying.

“-an!” That sounded like Changbin. He sounded scared. Great, just another reason Chan couldn’t keep the people around him safe.

“Chan, you need to breathe,” Changbin sounded like he was trying to stay calm but was failing miserably. Chan couldn’t breathe.

“Maybe I should go get Woojin or someb-” Chan reached out blindly, grabbing Changbin’s shirt so tightly his knuckles hurt.

“Don’t leave,” Chan wheezed. Well, if he could talk that means he could breathe. The edges of Chan’s vision were black. He couldn’t feel his body except where he was desperately holding onto Changbin.

“Okay, okay, I’m not going to leave,” Changbin said quickly. Changbin’s hands were wrapped around Chan’s wrist; the contact was the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. Chan still felt like he was a step away from death.

“Chan, you need to breathe,” Changbin said. He didn’t sound calmer than Chan felt. 

“Can’t.” Chan felt like he was hyperventilating now. He was breathing, but no air was getting into his lungs. His body felt numb.

“Chan,” Changbin snapped. Chan thought that he felt him gripping his shoulders, but he wasn’t sure. Was his heart supposed to be beating like this? Was his heart beating at all?

No, it was definitely beating. It was beating so fast. It was going to beat out of his chest.

“Chan, breathe with me.” Changbin started breathing deep, exaggerated breaths. Chan focused hard on matching his breathing. His breaths weren’t as deep as Changbin’s or as stable, but it seemed to calm his rapid heartbeat.

“That’s it,” Changbin sounded relieved. He was still gripping Chan’s shoulders tightly. “Keep breathing just like that.” His breathing was becoming more normal and deeper. A tingling sensation replaced the numbness in his body. 

Chan forced his hand to release its death hold on Changbin’s shirt, instead pulling his legs into his chest and wrapping his arms around them tightly. Burying his face in his knees, he focused energy on deep inhales and measured exhales.

Little by little, the tingling went away and feeling returned to his body, and his heart returned to something that felt like a normal rhythm. Silent tears slipped from Chan’s eyes, soaking into the knees of his pants. 

“Chan?” Changbin asked cautiously. Chan didn’t trust his voice enough to reply. “Are you okay?” Chan nodded against his legs, but it felt more like he was just rubbing his eyes on his knees than nodding.

“That was a dumb question,” Changbin sighed. “You’re not okay, you just had a panic attack.” Chan sank further back into his chair, a small, shuddering whimper leaving his mouth.

“Nobody blames you for what happened,” Changbin said, laying a tentative hand on his arm. Chan almost wanted to laugh at how awkward Changbin was being. He was never the best at comforting people.

“Jisung does,” Chan said with a bitter laugh. “And I don’t blame him. It’s not like I did anything to stop it.”

“There wasn’t anything you could do,” Changbin reasoned. Chan knew he was right. If he’d tried anything, Hyunjin would probably have ended up much worse off or even dead.

But Chan wasn’t feeling particularly reasonable right now.

“I could have done _something_ ,” Chan whispered. The tears had stopped by now, but Chan felt exhausted.

“No you couldn’t have, and you know it,” Changbin sounded exasperated, dropping his hand from Chan’s arm. “Jisung won’t stay mad at you forever, but you need to stop being so mad at yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s my fault that they were there in the first place. It’s my fault Hyunjin was shot.” Fresh tears pricked at his eyes when he said that.

“Stop it.” Changbin’s voice was sharp. “It was not your fault you had no way of knowing that was going to happen. This entire thing was in no way your fault unless you’ve somehow been in communication with that cult again, which I know you haven’t because I monitor all of you. You need to get a handle on yourself before things get really bad. We are all looking up to you.” His words rang through Chan’s head, joining Woojin’s words from the other night in a weird dissonant harmony. Everybody was counting on him. He was their leader.

Slowly, Chan uncurled himself and wiped his cheeks roughly. Changbin was still looking at him, concern shining in his eyes.

“Okay,” Chan said, nodding as he turned his attention back to the screens. “Okay. Let’s figure out how we can take them down.” 

~~~

Hyunjin woke up to an unbelievable pain in his shoulder. Groaning, he tried to roll over, but a gentle hand on his uninjured arm stopped him. Hyunjin forced his eyes to open despite the pain and saw Jeongin’s concerned eyes looking back at him. He was perched on a sleeping Seungmin’s lap, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on Hyunjin’s bicep.

“You shouldn’t move too much,” Jeongin whispered, eyes drifting over to his other shoulder. “Seungmin-ie says that you’ll rip your stitches.” Hyunjin nodded, attempting to relax back onto the bed. The pain made everything a little bit fuzzy around the edges. Jeongin reached down and tangle their fingers together as he leaned back into Seungmin’s chest. Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut against the pain before prying them open once again. It was probably better to try to distract himself than to just try to will the pain away.

Hyunjin examined the room, desperate to find _anything_ to distract himself. Jisung was asleep in the other chair in the room. There was an IV pole, but nothing was hooked up to him except for the monitors that steadily beeped beside him. Jisung probably took the IV out. The thought made Hyunjin want to laugh, but the pain in his shoulder was almost too much for him to bear.

He squeezed Jeongin’s hand gently, rolling his head to look over at him. Jeongin blinked at him curiously.

“Do you think that you could go ask a nurse if I can get something for the pain?” Hyunjin whispered. Jeongin nodded quickly.

“Jisung told them that you couldn’t have morphine, but he didn’t say why,” Jeongin explained, sliding out of Seungmin’s lap. Seungmin whined, sleepily reaching out for him.

“I’m just going to go get Hyunjin some medicine,” Jeongin whispered to him, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. Jeongin took his hand out of Hyunjin’s replacing it with Seungmin’s who fell back asleep quickly, keeping his loose hold on Hyunjin’s fingers. Jeongin silently slipped out of the room.

Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to breathe through the searing pain. It felt like there was something that he’d forgotten, but the pain was occupying most of his mental processes. He squeezed Seungmin’s hand, probably harder than he should have, really trying to ignore the pain.

Seungmin stirred next to him.

“Hyunjin?” he asked, sounding groggy.

“I’m fine, Seungmin, go back to sleep,” Hyunjin gritted. The longer that he was awake, the more the pain seemed to make its presence known. Seungmin shifted beside him, causing Hyunjin to crack his eyes open to look over at him.

“How is your shoulder feeling? You haven’t been moving too much have you? I should take a look at it,” Seungmin asked rapidly, concern radiating off of him in waves. Dropping Hyunjin’s hand, he moved to the other side of the bed. Hyunjin didn’t have the cognitive capacity to tell him not to.

Seungmin’s gentle hands pulled the dressing off and looked down at it. Hyunjin wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or pass out when he felt Seungmin’s fingers ghost over the wound.

“Sorry!” Seungmin said, pulling his hand away has and hastily smoothing the bandage back over it. “It looks okay, they’ll probably discharge you later today when the doctors come in. It’s only about 4 AM so it’ll be a few more hours.” Hyunjin nodded, doing his best to breathe through the pain.

Jeongin slipped back into the room, a nurse following closely behind. She was carrying two small paper cups, one with water and one with a pill.

“Your friend said that you couldn’t have IV morphine,” the nurse said kindly. “The doctor prescribed this for when you woke up; she figured you would need it.” She handed Hyunjin both cups. He swallowed the pill dry sipping the water to wash away the bitter taste.

Hyunjin heard the nurse leave and he heard Seungmin and Jeongin talking to him, but as soon as the pill took effect, Hyunjin’s mind was far, far away. That euphoria. It had been so long since he’d felt it. It still wasn’t as potent as the first time. A familiar need shifted and boiled under his skin. 

The pain was gone but it was replaced with the need to feel the way he had that first time. To chase that first euphoric high.

As the pill pulled him into unconsciousness, he drowsily remembered what he meant to tell Jeongin before he left to get the nurse. No opioids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow look I said two chapters today but now this is the third and i show no indication of stopping
> 
> Thank you for reading!!  
> Kudos and comments make me so happy everyone


	11. Chan: Familia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Chan end up the leader of Stray Kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Familia by Nicki Minaj and Anuel AA  
> Warnings: recreational drug use, violence, cults

**15 years ago**

Chan’s childhood was perfect. He lived a happy, quiet, suburban life with parents who loved him dearly. Every night they had family dinners together where they would ask how his day was and what he had learned in school. Some Saturdays, his mother would make chocolate chip pancakes and they would spend time together as a family at the park or the zoo or the aquarium. Chan loved his parents.

Then, one night he was left with a babysitter because his parents wanted to have a date night. They had told him to be good for the babysitter then had hugged and kissed him goodnight. That was the last time that Chan had ever seen them alive.

Nobody told him what happened to them, just that they’d died in an accident. He’d wanted more details, but they wouldn’t give him any. Everything after that felt like a dream. 

Chan was certain that the police were lying to him when they’d first told him. There was no way his parents were dead. Not his parents. His parents were superheroes; they were invincible. They wouldn’t leave him alone. He was absolutely certain of this until the social workers took him to the funeral.

It was a small service, a few friends and family but not many. His mother’s casket was open, but they said that his father’s body had been too damaged to view. The service was mostly a blur of strangers giving their condolences as he stood beside the social worker clutching a stuffed kangaroo his parents got him from the zoo a couple of months ago. The only thing that he remembers with any clarity was the lifeless, posed body of his mother.

After that, everything felt a little more real. The social worker explained that because there was no next of kin willing to take him in, he would be placed in the foster system. She told him that he could pack anything he wanted into two suitcases and a backpack.

Chan packed some clothes, some things that reminded him of his parents, and his favorite photo of their family. One last glance at the house and then the social worker was tearing him away from his happy life. 

When the shock of their deaths faded, Chan got angry. The grief counselor that the state required him to see told it was normal to feel this way, that it was a part of the grieving process, but it didn’t feel normal to him. Why was it that his parents had to be taken away? They were happy people. They were good people. They were _his parents_. They didn’t deserve this.

The first foster home he was placed into was awful. The foster parents insisted that every child call them Mom and Dad, going as far as to not even tell them their first names. Chan felt sick when he had to call them that. They weren’t his parents. They were just two people with control issues that wanted to collect the foster child checks.

There were several other foster children, most of which had been in the system most or all of their lives. They were cold toward Chan and kept their distance. Chan spent his nights clutching his kangaroo and staring at the tear-stained family photo. He didn’t sleep much anymore. 

As the days passed, his anger at the world only grew hotter. Any time the other kids would pick on him or tease him, he would lash out. It started verbally, venomous insults and nasty threats then he would go and hide away in their shared bedroom, the other kids avoiding it until bedtime. But eventually, the anger grew, and he started to lash out physically. 

At first, they were just little backyard fights between kids, some pushing some hitting, easily broken up by the other kids or the foster parents. Then the white-hot anger became so much. The fights started to become more violent, punches thrown to hurt and kicks aimed to incapacitate. Chan was just so angry at everything.

When he nearly sent another one of the foster kids to the hospital, his foster parents called his social worker and asked that he be removed from the house. His social worker was disappointed in him, but Chan couldn’t bring himself to care. That house was an awful place.

The next house he was placed in was marginally better. The foster parents were actually looking to adopt a child eventually; they weren’t just fostering kids for the money. Over the course pf his stayed with them, he was one of only two foster kids -- the only other being a very sweet girl a couple years older than him. 

The fights started again when he was enrolled in school. He missed his friends, his old teachers, and his parents. Everything was a reminder of just what had been taken from him. When the other kids made fun of him for being the new kid without any parents, it infuriated him.

After he was expelled for a particularly violent fight, his new foster parents called his social worker and had him removed from the house. Now both his social worker and his foster parents were disappointed in him. Chan clutched the photo of his parents and thought about how they’d be disappointed too.

Chan lost track of how many foster homes he was placed in over the next few months. Eventually, he gained a reputation for being a violent, problem child with anger issues. Foster families stopped being willing to accept a kid who was likely to put another kid in the hospital. That’s when they placed him in the group home.

It was a home that was known for housing troubled youths, anything from drugs to anger to eating disorder to suicidal ideations. He had group therapy classes and individual therapy sessions nearly every day. The kids in the home when to a nearby school for challenging students, escorted by one of the staff.

They were supposedly under 24-hour supervision with their time completely structured and occupied, but that was a pipedream that only the fancy group homes were able to accomplish. Their home was state-sponsored and severely understaffed which led to them having copious amounts of unsupervised, unstructured free time.

Chan was 11 when one of the teenagers let him try weed for the first time. It had been a year since his parents died, and while the overwhelming grief had somewhat lessened, the anger had only grown. The weed tempered the roaring flame in his stomach; Chan liked it a lot. He started to hang around the stoners a lot after that.

Another year of constant therapy sessions with doctors who didn’t care about him, stoner circles with kids who were further gone than he was, and visits from his social worker who just looked more and more disappointed every time she saw Chan passed. Chan had become something of an older brother to most of the young kids in the home. They came to him for help when they were being picked on or when they were struggling in their classes. They came to him for advice on things Chan pretended to know about. They would come to him at night if they had a nightmare, and Chan would hold them and comfort them the same way that his parents used to when he was afraid of the thing in his closet.

Chan still didn’t get much sleep anymore; memories and nightmares kept him up.

Another year and the awful reality of what the home actually was finally revealed itself to Chan. They weren’t trying to help or rehabilitate anybody, they just wanted the kids to be off the streets until they could lock them up for good. It was a juvie where social workers and parents could feel good about sending their charges.

Despite that, Chan thought he was content to stay there until he was old enough to leave. That thought vanished when he accidentally walked in on another kid's individual therapy session. It was a therapist Chan had never met, and he hadn’t known that the session was going on -- he’d just been looking for a place that he could light up alone. 

Chan stood rigid in shock as he stared at the scene before him. The therapist had his hands all over the terrified little girl. She couldn’t have been any older than seven, and Chan knew that she was new to the home. In the entire time that Chan had been in the home, he had never seen anything as vile and repulsive as this. Everything went red.

He remembers dragging the therapist away from the girl and beating him bloody. He remembers being dragged off of the therapist by another staff member. He remembers going back to the little girl and holding her protectively as the other staff led the therapist away. He remembers trying to tell his social worker what happened when she was telling him that the therapist was thinking of pressing charges.

He remembers her believing his story but telling him that nobody else would believe him. They wouldn’t be able to do anything about what happened. 

Chan decided then that he wouldn’t last another 5 years in this home.

Later that night, he and the little girl -- whose name he learned was Emile -- made a run for it. They each packed a small backpack of clothes, and Chan tucked the worn-out photo of his parents safely in the pocket of his jeans. Gripping Emile’s small hand tightly, they snuck out of the home together.

The next month was spent hiding from the social workers and police who were looking for the two of them. The story eventually shifted from two troubled runaways from the local youth home to a violent, delusional teenager kidnapping a sweet, innocent child. Chan wondered what his parents would think if they were alive to see him now.

Sometime around the sixth week of them being hidden, a man in a suit found them. He told them about a place for kids without homes. A place with beds and food and education. He called it The Family. 

It sounded a lot like the home they had just run away from, but Chan was hungry and desperate for a bed and Emile seemed eager for the prospect of a warm bed and a hot meal. Despite his wariness, Chan agreed and followed the man, Emile’s hand held tightly in his.

The man led them to a van that had a couple of other kids already sitting in it. Some of the kids were well-groomed and looked excited to see them, others were dirty and suspicious, eyes shifting from person to person and posture ready to fight.

The drive to wherever they were going was long and was filled with tales of how wonderful The Family was to its Children. Chan never let go of Emile’s hand.

They drove for a long time, leaving the city far behind them before they finally reached a huge, sprawling farm. The man ushered Chan, Emile, and the others into a massive dorm, showed them to the showers. He told them that orientation would be soon and they were to be clean and dressed.

They showered and dressed in the separate bathrooms, then Emile found Chan again. She looked petrified and grabbed his arm tightly. Chan curled his arm securely around her and they sat on one of the bunks together, Emile curled close to his side. Eventually, an older kid, who introduced himself as Sammy, came and led them to a large assembly hall for orientation. 

Orientation consisted of a different man in a suit telling them about the ideals of The Family. They told them about how this was their new family -- the other kids were their new siblings, The Elders were their aunts and uncles, and their new Father would always protect them. They would teach them skills they believed were essential for a successful life. They would give them a warm, dry bed and three hot meals a day. They would show them the light.

To complete the orientation, ever kid in attendance received a brand. It wasn’t big, just a small tree on the hip, but it was the worst pain that Chan has ever felt in his life. The Family said that with the tree, they would all have family close. They said the tree would protect them. It was The Family Tree.

After that, Emile and Chan were taken to separate dorms. They were told that they wouldn’t interact much due to separate living and education for boys and girls. 

That was the last time that Chan saw Emile, she would spend her time with the other girls learning household skills like cooking, cleaning, and sewing. Chan missed her at first but soon became too busy with his own education to think much about her.

At first, The Family felt like a utopia. Three hot meals a day, kind adults, a soft bed, and nobody told him not to fight. In fact, they encouraged it.

The only downside was the mandatory worship groups everyday and mass on Sundays. Chan had gone to church with his parents when he was younger, but these services were nothing like the ones he had attended before. These were fanatical, full of energy and song. They talked about everlasting life and love through The Family. The strangest part was that instead of God, they praised the man who founded The Family, The Father Reginald.

They honed Chan’s predisposition to fight with education and targeted training. They taught him proper technique and skills. They made him master hand-to-hand before they let him touch a weapon. Then it went sticks to knives to guns. When he’d mastered fighting skills, they taught him thievery, how to be light on his feet, how to move undetected.

He was a prodigy, the best The Family had seen in a long while.

The younger boys looked up to him as a hero, a leader, an older brother. He taught them what he could, guided them through trickier skills and more complex movements. When the younger kids would wake up crying in the night, Chan would hold them until they fell asleep in his arms. It was just like the home that he had run away from.

Chan still didn’t sleep much.

After mastering all of the physical skills that The Family required, Chan started to learn the more technical side. Computer skills, running cons, strategizing, mission planning, allocation of work and resources for jobs, and building useful gadgets while on a job. He excelled in this, too.

After only a couple of years, Chan was in charge of teaching the younger boys how to fight. He was in charge of leading the missions that The Family sent him and some of the other boys on.

It took another year for him to realize that these missions were just heists that The Family was having children run rather than running them themselves. It didn’t bother Chan much at first, leading thefts of abandoned warehouses and collecting runaways off the street wasn’t exactly dangerous to the kids involved.

But, like all good things in Chan’s life, it didn’t last.

When Chan was 18, The Family told Chan that he would be leading another simple theft mission, but what they chose to omit was that this heist would involve a gunfight with the opposing gang. He went in with a group of six kids and only came back with two. All of them were younger than fifteen.

When he got back, everybody in The Family prayed for the deceased. They prayed for safe passage into the loving arms of The Father. They spoke with such reverence of The Father reuniting with his Children. They left four candles and four plates of dinner at the base of the large statue of Father to ensure their safe journey into his welcoming arms.

Chan followed along entirely on autopilot. It wasn’t the first time in his five years here that he had attended one of these ceremonies, but it was the first time that he had been so intimately involved in the deaths.

After the service, Chan got higher than he ever had before. Smoking was a habit that he didn’t leave behind when he left the group home.

He spent a couple more distant months with The Family. The Elders started talking about initiating him as an Elder, the youngest in the history of The Family.

They were discussing it up until the day that Chan ran away with nothing but a backpack and the faded picture of his parents. 

Shockingly, it was more difficult to run away from The Family farm than it had been to run away from the group home. Kids were milling around all the time on the farm and nobody wanted you to leave. It was against the rules to leave. 

It took him nearly twenty minutes to get through the few acres separating him from freedom, but Chan made it out; being a criminal prodigy had its perks.

Then he was back on the streets with no connections and no plan. He spent about a week just wandering around aimlessly, jumping when vans passed by and people walked too close to him. When he was confident that The Family wasn’t going to come after him, he started to try to think of ways to get some food, shelter, and money.

The local library had free public computers that he used to get into local security feeds of nearby stores and banks trying to come up with some sort of plan. He’d had enough foresight to bring a gun and a handful of bullets with him, but it wasn’t a whole lot -- he probably wouldn’t be able to hit a bank with what he had.

After a couple of days of just watching security feeds, he noticed something weird. There was somebody else in the cameras of this convenience store, and they were trying to kick him out. Well, that was new.

It wasn’t easy to get whoever it was off of his tail, but eventually, he’d backed himself into a corner where the other person seemed like they couldn’t be bothered anymore. Turning his attention back to the screen, Chan watched a kid walk into the store. He couldn’t have been any older than 15 and he was all skin and bones. Chan watched intently as the kid snatched a couple of things off of the shelves, made eye contact with one of the cameras, then went up to the counter. 

So he was probably working with whoever was trying to kick Chan out of the cameras.

The kid pulled out a knife and started yelling something at the clerk. Oh cute, they were holding the place up at _knife_ _point_. 

Wanting to know more about the kid and his friend in the camera, Chan started searching for the other person in the camera system again. When he found them, he back-traced their IP address and found where his pesky little companion was operating from. 

Turning his attention back to the security footage, Chan watched as the kid snatched up the cash, looked at the camera one last time, then bolted. There were already red and blue light illuminating the inside of the store. The clerk must have pressed the panic button when the kid pulled the knife. The entire job was adorably sloppy.

Chan noticed the minute that the other person left him alone in the cameras. They didn’t even bother to wipe the footage -- these kids were going to get themselves caught.

Wiping the footage, Chan pulled up the location of the IP address again and wrote it down. He figured he should pay his new friends a visit, it was better than spending another night in some alley.

It was a long walk to the address he found. When he got there, he found a rundown apartment building. Chan put on his best panicking-older-brother voice and told the landlord his kid brother was visiting a friend here and hadn’t been home in a few days. Describing the kid he’d seen stick up the store, he got the apartment number that his new friends were in.

Chan figured that these kids were probably naive enough to answer the door if somebody knocked, so that’s just what he did.

Chan knocked, heard rustling inside, then nothing. 

Alright, so maybe these kids weren’t quite as clueless as Chan thought they were. With a sigh, Chan pulled a small lock pick set from his backpack. Be prepared for anything, The Family had taught him, Father wouldn’t always be around to protect his Children.

Chan picked the lock easily and let himself into the sparsely furnished apartment. The entire place seemed completely unlived in.

“Do both the kid with the knife and the one playing around in the cameras live here or is it more of a work contract kind of relationship?” Chan called into the apartment, swinging the door shut behind him. His fingers ghosted the gun tucked into his waistband, knowing full well he wouldn’t shoot a kid but finding comfort in its presence anyway.

The skinny kid with the knife came into the living room again. He still had his knife. Chan wanted to coo at how cute he looked brandishing such a small knife, but he refrained.

“What are you doing here?” the kid asked. He sounded so young. Chan noted that the way the kid stood lacked any training or refinement -- like he’d learned to fight from the streets. Judging by how rail-thin he was, he probably had.

“Just came to see who the people were that just so sloppily robbed that store is all,” Chan said, holding his hands up in surrender. Something in him wanted to help this kid out,

“You a cop?” the kid asked warily. Chan wanted to laugh.

“Do I look like a cop?” Chan asked, amused. The kid gave him a long once over then lowered his knife.

“I just wanna help you and your friend out,” Chan explained. The kid looked even more suspicious at that.

“What do you mean?”

“That was the sloppiest hit I’ve ever seen. I tracked you guys down from a computer at the library, imagine what somebody with proper equipment could do.” The kid continued to stare at him like Chan was gonna pull a gun -- which he _wasn’t_. Behind the kid, another shadow darkened the door frame. This one wasn’t nearly as skinny, but he didn’t venture beyond the threshold of the room. Chan couldn’t get a good look at much beyond his silhouette. 

“I’m Chan by the way,” Chan said, stretching his hand out. The kid stared at his hand like it was going to turn into a snake and bite him. Chan dropped his hand, nodding. “And if you want to keep this operation going without getting caught, you need somebody with experience and training. You need somebody like me.” Chan grinned at the kid, shrugging.

“Do you really think that I’m that dumb?” the kid spat, raising the knife level with Chan’s chest. Maybe Chan had not given them enough credit at all. Honestly, he was kind of impressed.

“No-”

“You break into our apartment and expect me to just trust you?!” the kid shouted. Chan had been with The Family for so long he’d forgotten just how much it took for kids who grew up on the street to trust you. In hindsight, maybe breaking in wasn’t the best course of action.

“Jisung,” the shadow softly called softly from the room. “Come here.” The kid -- Jisung -- briefly glanced back at the shadow before returning his attention to Chan. For his part, Chan raised his hands again and rocked back on his heels, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. Jisung crept back toward the shadow, not taking his eyes of Chan.

The two of them stood in the doorway, where Jisung could keep an eye on Chan and conversed in low-tones back and forth. Chan kept his hands up, idly studying the tiny apartment.

Jisung walked back into the living room, looking incredibly unhappy.

“We’ve decided to let you into our... business, but you can’t stay here,” Jisung grumbled. To say that Chan was shocked is an understatement.

“Changbin wants your help with computer shit,” Jisung grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Says you’re pretty good or something.” Chan wanted to reach forward and pinch Jisung’s cheeks, his pout was just so cute. 

“Of course I can help him,” Chan said merrily. “I can also help you if you want. You seem a little… untrained.”

Jisung made an offended noise and the shadow that Chan assumed to be Changbin burst out laughing. So maybe that means this would work out after all.

~~~

In the beginning, Chan only came by periodically for jobs and random bits of instruction or training. Changbin took to him more quickly than Jisung did, taken by Chan computer skills. Eventually, Chan won Jisung over with his fighting skills.

After six months, Chan was hanging around their apartment at least 4 times a week. He still didn’t have a place he was living, he was just squatting in empty houses for the time being, and it was nice to hang around their place.

After he had learned that these boys had been eating nothing but convenience store snacks since they’d run away, Chan started cooking real meals for them, a skill he had learned in the group home. It was easy for him to fall into the role of older brother again. 

Chan also learned that Jisung had an issue with drugs, though he never asked why. He hated when Chan smoked inside or showed up high, so Chan stopped letting Jisung see it. As a result, Chan found himself smoking a lot less, and he didn’t miss it.

Another three months went by and Chan was spending nearly every day at their apartment. They pulled a lot more jobs now, creating a bit of a reputation for themselves. They called themselves 3racha, a joke about the only thing the kids had had in their fridge when Chan had met them.

Their reputation grew to the point that people were starting to ask for them. Chan asked Changbin to set up something in the deep web to field these requests. After a little bit of coaching, Changbin’s natural talent surpassed any of the training that Chan had received. 

Another three months passed, and Chan had unofficially moved into their apartment. He learned that their lease was a fake, a constant stress for Changbin because he was afraid of getting caught and evicted, and offered to sign a legal lease in an apartment big enough for the three of them. It took a little bit of convincing, but they had eventually agreed. 

Packing their meager belongings, they made their way to a different apartment building and signed a real lease.

Chan still didn’t sleep much, but for the first time since his parents had died, Chan felt like he had a family again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im on a roll yall  
> as always kudos and comments are what keep up alive in this cold world  
> love you all <3


	12. Sweet Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Sweet Disaster by DREAMERS (the lyrics dont make a lot of sense with the chapter but its a good song and it vibes)  
> Warnings: drug addiction

**Present day**

Jisung woke up to Hyunjin downing the pill the nurse gave him. Time slowed down as Hyunjin relax back onto the bed, falling quickly asleep, face relaxed into a blissful smile. Jisung caught the nurse out in the hallway.

“What did you give him?” Jisung asked, gesturing toward Hyunjin’s room. He was working hard to maintain his composure; just because he was freaking out right now didn’t mean he needed to make a scene in the middle of the hospital.

“Just some oxycodone for the pain,” she said professionally like she was in a hurry. Jisung felt like he could faint, but he managed a jerky nod before turning and stepping back into Hyunjin’s room.

Hyunjin was still asleep on the bed. Seeing Hyunjin so relaxed and blissful made Jisung feel like he was going to be sick. He had tried so hard to make sure that Hyunjin didn’t get anything that might make him go back to… before.

Jisung worked through his panic by focusing on the rise and fall of Hyunjin’s chest. Everything would be okay; Hyunjin was alive and breathing. They’d be able to get through this. They’d survived so much worse, this is nothing. 

“Seungmin, I need to speak with you,” Jisung said, finally feeling like he collected himself enough to speak. Seungmin was still holding Jeongin on his lap and both of them had turned Jisung curiously. Jisung didn’t want to tell them, Hyunjin had made it clear that he wanted his past to remain a secret from everybody he could, especially them, but Jisung couldn’t see an alternative. The least he could do is not tell Jeongin.

“In private. Please,” Jisung sighed, gesturing to the hallway. Seungmin nodded, gently moving Jeongin off of his lap, and followed Jisung into the hallway. Jisung shut the door behind them, but not before looking back to see Jeongin sitting beside Hyunjin on the bed, threading his fingers through Hyunjin’s hair.

“What did you want to talk about?” Seungmin asked sounding exhausted. He probably was, Jisung reflected. He knew more about this than anybody else, so it was unlikely that he got any sleep with his brain going through all of the worst-case scenarios. Jisung chewed the inside of his cheek and shoved his hands into his pockets. He really didn’t want to do this.

“I need to tell you something about Hyunjin that he doesn’t want you to know, but that you need to know,” Jisung said in one breath, staring at the ground instead of looking at Seungmin. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

“Okay?” Seungmin said, drawing out the word in confusion. Shit, did he have to be so clueless? This would all be so much easier if Seungmin had any inclination of what Jisung was trying to say. 

“Fuck,” Jisung groaned, scrubbing his hands roughly over his face. Jisung wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do this.

“Jisung?” Seungmin asked, reaching forward and gently grabbing Jisung’s wrists to pull them away from his face. Jisung finally looked at him for the first time since they stepped into the hall. God, he looked so concerned. That and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. “What do you need to tell me?”

Jisung sucked in a deep breath.

“Hyunjin. He…” Jisung stopped, glancing into the room. Hyunjin looked so peaceful.

“He what, Jisung?” Seungmin was becoming more and more worried the longer Jisung dragged this out, but he didn’t think he was able to do it any faster. It stung to betray Hyunjin’s trust like this.

“Shit, he really doesn’t want you to know this,” Jisung moaned.

“Jisung we can’t stand out here all day with you trying to figure out if you’re going to tell me what you want to tell me. Either tell me or don’t and let’s go back inside.” Seungmin sounded tired as he finally dropped Jisung’s wrists. Jisung felt like utter shit, but Seungmin needed to know.

“When we were kids, Hyunjin kinda fell in with the… let’s call them the wrong crowd. You know he lived rough for a long while. He’s told you a lot of the stuff he went through.” Seungmin nodded along with his words.

“Yeah, it was awful.” Seungmin winced. Jisung knew that it was hard for him to think about the things Hyunjin had told them about his time on the streets.

“Right. He didn’t tell you everything, though.” Taking a deep breath, Jisung mentally prepared himself to continue. Hyunjin had told them about damn near everything except his addiction.

“Jisung, please get to the point, you’re freaking me out,” Seungmin said.

“He spent that entire time on pills. Addicted,” Jisung finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. Seungmin’s face fell at Jisung’s words, the color draining. 

“Like…?”

“Like the kind the nurse just gave him. The entire five years, high out of his mind on those same pills,” Jisung confirmed. “I mean, it was a while ago, but that’s a long time, Seungmin. I’m scared he’ll relapse.” Seungmin rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked so conflicted.

“We can’t give him _nothing_ for the pain,” Seungmin sighed.

“Advil?”

“He was _shot_ , Jisung,” Seungmin said, unimpressed. Jisung sighed in resignation, crossing his arms over his chest mirroring Seungmin. “Okay, he needs the medicine. I’ll keep a careful eye on it, and I’ll be in charge of giving it to him. He won’t relapse, I’ll make sure of it.” Jisung nodded. He didn’t like it, but it was better than nothing.

Just before Seungmin opened the door, Jisung reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him.

“You can’t tell anybody. Especially Jeongin,” Jisung stressed, gripping Seungmin’s arm probably harder than he should have been.

“I won’t,” Seungmin reassured, patting Jisung’s hand gently. Jisung released Seungmin’s hand and allowed him to reenter the room.

Jisung felt like he had just betrayed Hyunjin to the highest degree. Hyunjin was going to be so pissed when he found out Jisung told Seungmin.

Looking through the window, Jisung watched as Seungmin sat on the edge of Hyunjin’s bed beside Jeongin, gently caressing Hyunjin’s cheek. Jeongin looked over at him and asked a question, to which Seungmin just shook his head and gently pulled Jeongin’s head to rest on his shoulder.

~~~

Felix fiddled with his character on screen, making him walk in circles, jumping over random objects, punching at walls, just fiddling. He was bored, and his mind was wandering restlessly. The game was supposed to calm his racing mind, but the only thing it did was give him something to do with his hands as his mind continued to run laps around itself.

“Mind if I join?” Felix looked over as Minho fell onto the couch beside him, grabbing the other controller. 

“It’s more of a single-player game,” Felix replied, looking back at the screen where his character had started its idle animation.

“How about Halo?” he suggested, nudging Felix with his shoulder. Felix nodded, saved his game, and closed it to let Minho to start up Halo. They played a couple of games in silence, Felix not all the way present. His mind kept drifting back to the job, to everything he could have done differently.

“Where’s Jisung?” Minho asked after their third consecutive loss. Felix shrugged.

“Hospital I think.” He’d figured that he probably wanted to stay with Hyunjin, and Felix couldn’t exactly blame him -- they were basically brothers. 

Minho and he played another game in silence before Minho tossed down his controller and turned to face Felix. In response, Felix pursed his lips and resolutely watched the screen, idly flicking at the triggers.

“Where are you?” Minho asked. Felix sighed and set the controller onto the coffee table. He pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged on the couch. He didn’t bother looking at Minho or replying.

“Felix,” Minho said, reaching over and touching Felix’s shoulder. Felix didn’t flinch away from the touch, but he didn’t make any acknowledgment of it either. He didn’t mean to shut people out, he just did it. It was just easier to not talk about his problems when they all had problems of their own.

“Come on you know you can talk to me,” Minho pleaded. Felix glanced over at him and looked away quickly when he saw the desperate look in his eye.

“I don’t know why you ask when you know what it is,” Felix sighed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “It’s always the same thing.”

“Felix,” Minho sighed, turning to sit cross-legged on the couch so he could better face him, “you know that it’s not your fault.” Felix fought the urge to laugh. Of course it was his fault.

“I was Hyunjin’s backup,” Felix muttered, not looking at Minho. “I was his backup, but then I got lost and because of that Hyunjin got shot.”

“It isn’t your fault, Felix,” Minho insisted. Felix scoffed and finally turned to face him.

“Tell me how this isn’t my fault, Minho,” Felix spat. Even though none of them believed that it was his fault, Felix knew it was. If he were just able to not lose himself in every job they took, he would have been by Hyunjin’s side. He would have been able to stop this all from happening.

“Because it isn’t your fault that that awful organization kidnapped you and forced you to become a goddamn child soldier. And it wasn’t your fault that that fucking psycho chick with the gun snuck up on Hyunjin while he was on the move,” Minho said, voice as steely as Felix’s. “You’ve only been here for two years. Give yourself a break.”

“Why should I?!” Felix shouted, his hands clenching into tight fists. “Why should I give myself a break when Hyunjin was the one who was shot?!”

“Because it wasn’t your fault!” Minho shouted back. Felix stood up, fuming. He couldn’t sit here and listen to Minho tell him everything was okay. Storming toward the door, Felix took comfort in the knives in his thigh holster and the gun in his ankle holster.

“Where are you going?” Minho shouted after him, sounding exasperated. 

“Not sure,” Felix replied, pulling the door open. “Somewhere to fight someone since that seems to be the only thing I’m capable of doing.” He didn’t wait for Minho’s reply as he pulled the door shut behind him. 

Maybe he’d find some kids on the street ready to fight him. Maybe he’d just end up at the gym and spar with some poor schmuck while hopefully not breaking any of their limbs -- he’d only make that mistake once. Maybe he’d break into a ganger's house on the other side of town and see just how many goons he can take at once.

He didn’t care, he just needed to get out.

~~~

Changbin was completely lost in his work. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it, but he was sure that he was onto something. Sure, his shoulders were stiff from being hunched over his computer for so long, his eyes were dry and itchy from staring at the screen, his head pounded probably from dehydration and exhaustion, and his stomach ached from not having eaten since he’d started working, but he was _so close_ he couldn’t stop now. 

He didn’t hear the knock at the door, assuming there was one, or see the small beam of light that must have come in when the door opened and then shut. The hand that squeezed his shoulder, on the other hand, he noticed and he shrieked in a rather undignified way before spinning around to face his attacker.

Jisung stood behind him, both hands raised in mock surrender as he struggled to contain his laughter. 

“Back from the hospital?” Changbin sighed, placing his hand over his racing heart. If Jisung could scare him that easily, he’d been in here a lot longer than he had thought.

“Yeah,” Jisung said, collapsing into the other chair and kicking it around in circles. “We just came back. Hyunjin is resting, and Seungmin is watching over him.” Changbin hummed, turning back to his work. It was good to hear that everybody was home safe; it eased some of the tension in his shoulders.

They fell into silence as Changbin focused his attention back on his work. Beside him, Jisung was playing on his phone and spinning his chair in circles. Changbin had taught himself the useful skill of ignoring Jisung years ago.

Changbin was so, _so_ tantalizingly close when Jisung decided to open his mouth and shatter his concentration.

“What are you working on?” Jisung asked innocently. Changbin sighed heavily, dropping his hands into his lap, figuring he could use a break. He rolled his neck, the bones cracking loudly when he did so, then turned to face Jisung who was picking at the fabric on the chair he was still twisting around on. Something was really bothering him.

“I’m trying to find the best way to get back at Chan’s old cult,” Changbin explained, watching Jisung fidget and spin. “Will you stop spinning around like that? You’re making me dizzy.” Jisung stopped and blinked at him for a second.

“How long have you been working on it?” Jisung asked as he started to spin again, ignoring Changbin’s request. Changbin sighed again, dropping his head onto the back of the chair as he watched Jisung spin around and around. Maybe he was more sleep deprived than he thought because, as Changbin watched, Jisung turned into a blur.

“Not too long,” Changbin lied, forcing himself to turn away from the blur that was Jisung and direct his attention back to the computer in front of him. Only a little bit longer, and then he’d know how they’d be able to take down this stupid cult. Only a little bit more.

“Really?” Jisung continued, Changbin did his best to ignore him. “Because Minho says that you’ve been cooped up in here since the heist, which was like two days ago.” So maybe he’d been working for two days, that’s not even the longest he’d stayed in this office. Plus, Chan was with him for a couple of hours at the start of his two day marathon.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been working,” Changbin mumbled, he was too close to pay much attention to Jisung or his suddenly very loud and insistent stomach.

“Changbin you can’t hole yourself up in here for this long without eating, drinking, or sleeping it’s not hea-”

Changbin’s excited shout cut Jisung off. He’d figured it out! He’d connected the last piece of the puzzle! Changbin stood up abruptly, elated, but had to sit back down again when his head spun and his vision went hazy. Ok so maybe he had been in this office too long.

“Changbin?” Jisung asked, concern lacing his voice. Changbin waved him off.

“I found a way to get back at that cult,” Changbin said, grinning at the computer. “Go get Chan.”

“How about you go get Chan and on the way, grab a glass of water and something to eat,” Jisung suggested, starting to spin in his chair again. The nerve of this kid.

“Brat,” Changbin muttered, kicking Jisungs chair sending it rolling and spinning halfway across the room carrying in it a giggling Jisung. When the chair rolled to a slow stop, Jisung stood up still giggling.

“I’ll go get you some food, and maybe if I run into Chan along the way, I’ll bring him back,” Jisung said merrily, leaving the room. Changbin sat back in his chair, staring at the screen with a satisfied grin. With how little information the cult had computerized combined with the fact that everything that _was_ computerized was so highly encrypted or completely fake, Changbin had to do a lot of work to figure out how they were going to infiltrate _and_ dismantle that place. He was proud of himself.

The door cracked open again, and a protein bar flew through the air and fit Changbin square in the head. He was quick enough to catch the water bottle that soon followed. Changbin sent Jisung a nasty look as he made his way into the office giggling before cracking open the water bottle and taking a couple of sips. Chan followed soon after, shutting the door behind him.

“Good to see you didn’t die in here,” Chan said, leaning on the back of the chair where Jisung had once again perched himself after dragging it back to the desk. “Both Minho and I tried knocking, but you never said anything.” Guilt gnawed at the glowing pride in Changbin’s belly as he listened to Chan; sometimes he forgot that there were people around who cared about what happened to him. He tried to drown those thoughts by taking a couple more sips of water.

“I’ve been busy,” Changbin said simply, setting the half empty water bottle and unopened protein bar on the desk. “Look at what I’ve found.”

Changbin pulled up everything that he’d been able to scrounge together onto the multitude of screens in front of them, then turned to watch as Chan took in everything on the screen.

“You…” Chan trailed off, staring longer at everything on the screen. He sounded awestruck. Changbin’s grin widened. Letting Chan read everything that he’d put on the screens, Changbin sipped more of the water. It tasted a lot better than Changbin remembered water tasting. 

“Holy shit, Changbin,” Chan breathed. “There’s so much here.”

“Like I said,” Changbin grinned. “I’ve been busy.” Jisung reached over and grabbed the protein bar, slamming it against Changbin’s chest with a pointed look. Changbin sighed and opened it, nibbling on it a little. 

“Alright,” Chan said, clapping his hands. “Now that you’ve figured out a way in, let’s work out some of the nitty gritty.” Chan grabbed the stool that sat in the corner of the office and positioned himself between Jisung and Changbin.

“Let’s dismantle a cult, boys,” Chan said, an excited grin stretching across his face.

~~~

After that first pill, Hyunjin had been trying to scratch that familiar itch under his skin without taking more pills in any way he could think of. This was partially because he was trying to convince himself he didn’t _really_ want to take the pills again, and partially because Seungmin has them locked away.

Hyunjin figured out relatively quickly that Jisung must have told Seungmin about his past addiction. The betrayal hurt in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He had never wanted Seungmin or Jeongin to know about that. He’d never wanted them to know what he had done to himself. He’d never wanted them to see how weak he actually was.

The day after Hyunjin had come home from the hospital, Seungmin had had to go to class. Right before he left, he gave Hyunjin a pill and he’d promised that he’d give him another if the pain was bad enough when he got back from class. 

Despite Seungmin having gone to class only a few hours ago, the itch was enough to make Hyunjin jittery and restless. Jisung was holed up in the office with Changbin and Chan again. He’d come out briefly when Seungmin had left for class, but that just ended in a massive fight about the pills and him telling Seungmin. 

Jeongin was at school, Chan insisted he not miss any more days before he graduates. Hyunjin had no idea where the others were, but he knew that they weren’t around. 

Hyunjin had been left completely alone with his thoughts and his stupid, useless arm. When he’d been discharged, the doctor had told him that he’d have to wear a sling to keep his shoulder stationary for six weeks, and Hyunjin was going crazy after only two days. He wasn’t used to having to sit still for so long and it was making him restless. He wished he could go fight out the itch, but instead he had just worn a rut in the ground in front of the bedside table where he knew Seungmin has locked the pills. Hyunjin let out a frustrated sigh and collapsed onto the bed, running his hand through his hair. 

A glance at the clock told him that it was only 2:30 in the afternoon. Seungmin had a night class today and wouldn’t be home until around 7 that evening. Hyunjin felt like he was going to peel off his skin, and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of the locked drawer that he knew the pills were in. Was it his imagination, or was he starting to shake?

Before he knew it, his lockpicks were in his hand and he was crouching in front of the nightstand. It only took less than a second for Hyunjin to get the drawer open, cheap locks were some of the easiest things in the world to pick. Hyunjin reached into the drawer and pulled out the orange pill bottle filled with pills. Turning it over in his hand, he listened to the pills clatter around in the bottle.

The itch was the strongest he’d felt all day as he held the bottle. 

Pulling the cap off, Hyunjin poured a couple of pills into his hand and stared down at them. He shouldn’t. He really, _really_ shouldn’t. But the itch.

He tossed them back dry.

“Hyunjin?” a small voice asked behind him. Hyunjin hadn’t even heard the door open. Capping the bottle, he tossed it back into the drawer. He’d need to figure out a way to lock that before Seungmin got home. 

“Hey, Sunshine,” Hyunjin said brightly, turning around to face Jeongin. He felt the pills making his head foggy and euphoric. He felt the itch being scratched. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school?” Jeongin frowned at him, stepping in and kicking the door closed behind him. 

“School’s out,” Jeongin said, though it sounded like more of a question. He dropped his backpack on the ground and walked over to Hyunjin, all the while pinning him down with a concerned stare. As soon as he was within reach, Hyunjin gripped his arm and pulled him down onto the bed beside him. Hyunjin curled his arm around Jeongin’s shoulder, pulling him firmly into his side and resting his head on the crown on his head. He liked having Jeongin close, it made him feel grounded.

“Why did you break into Seungmin’s drawer,” Jeongin asked quietly, snaking his arms around Hyunjin’s middle in a gentle hold. Hyunjin felt his blood turn to ice despite Jeongin’s warm hold.

“I was in a lot of pain, Sunshine,” Hyunjin lied, tugging Jeongin closer and placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head. Jeongin just nodded and squeezed Hyunin’s waist gently. Hyunjin liked it when Jeongin and Seungmin held him. He liked that they never went further than just holding unless he initiated it. They respected that sometimes all he wanted was a hug. Hyunjin often felt like he was the luckiest person alive to have two people he cared so much about that also cared so much about him.

“Why didn’t you just wait for Seungmin to get home and give them to you?” Jeongin asked, leaning his head against Hyunjin’s good shoulder. 

“I was in a lot of pain,” Hyunjin repeated. His head had gotten really foggy. He didn’t want to discuss this now, he just wanted to hold Jeongin. “And he won’t be home until seven. I just couldn’t wait, Sunshine.” Jeongin hummed in acknowledgment, but it didn’t quite sound like he believed him.

“Will you tell Seungmin that you took them when he gets home?” Jeongin asked innocently. Hyunjin cooed and pulled him closer, peppering the top of his head in kisses. Jeongin was just the cutest person in the entire world. 

“Of course I will tell Seungmin when he gets home,” Hyunjin assured. “You can’t tell him though.” Jeongin nodded against his shoulder.

“Why not?” he asked. God, he was so cute and innocent and naive.

“You just can’t,” Hyunjin said, not able to come up with a plausible lie with his head so foggy. “You can’t tell Jisung either.” Jeongin nodded again, not asking any more questions. Hyunjin pulled them back to lay on the bed, and Jeongin curled into his side, head resting on his chest. Hyunjin’s arm curled around Jeongin’s shoulders, playing with the soft hairs at the base of Jeongin’s nap as they napped in the warm afternoon sun.

Eventually, Jeongin had to get up to do his homework, and Hyunjin was left lying alone on the bed. After a couple of hours, the high faded and the itch returned.

When Seungmin came home, Hyunjin didn’t tell him what happened earlier. He told Seungmin that his shoulder was in unspeakable pain. He accepted the pill from his concerned boyfriend’s outstretched hand with a grateful smile. He swallowed the pill and allowed the beautiful feeling to overtake his mind once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are really pickin up aint they?  
> so i probably wont update again for a couple of days now that i gave yall like 6 chapters today (also im gonna be very busy lol)  
> but i hope that you are enjoying!!!!
> 
> kudos and comments are my only source of nourishment please feed me


	13. Minho: Good Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Minho end up here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Good Friend by Quinn XCII  
> Warnings: thievery, mentions of self-harm

**17 years ago**

Minho lived alone with his mother in a small, one-bedroom apartment. His mother was a gentle woman with a soft heart, and Minho loved her dearly. He knew that he couldn’t have asked for a better mom than her. 

But kindness doesn’t pay the bills, and Minho had to sit by and watch as his mother worked long, grueling hours at two different jobs just to barely make ends meet. Most kids his age didn’t have much of a concept of money, but Minho was all too aware of how much he and his mother struggled financially. 

Today was his birthday, but he wasn’t expecting anything special. His mom was working a double at her second job, so she wouldn’t be home until after Minho was supposed to be in bed. She’d come in when she got home to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight, and that would be all that he would see her today. There wasn’t even a babysitter around to keep him company, his mom couldn’t afford one.

Minho was sitting in front of the TV, snacking on sugary cereal by the handful while watching cartoons. That’s how he’d been for most of the day, and the sugar was starting to make him restless. He wanted to play at the park a couple of blocks away, but his mom had given him strict instructions that he wasn’t allowed to leave the house while she wasn’t home.

The colorful cartoons danced across the screen as Minho contemplated his options. He could stay in the apartment and keep watching cartoons, maybe play with his toys alone, or he could go play with the other kids that would be at the park.

Minho decided that his mom would never know that he’d gone out.

With all the conviction of a 7-year-old sneaking out, Minho turned off the TV and pulled on his tattered light-up Sketchers. They didn’t light up anymore and they had too many holes in them, but Minho adored them. Grabbing the spare key his mom left hanging by the door for emergencies, Minho opened the door and glanced up and down the hallway. It was just as deserted as always as he left his home, shutting and locking the door behind him.

The excitement of the situation made Minho giggle as he walked down the streets in the direction of the park. He was breaking the rules! This was a kind of rush that he’d never felt before.

The way to the park led him past a small corner store where he’d buy candy when his mom gave him her extra tips from work. It didn’t happen very often which made it such a very special treat. 

Today, however, Minho didn’t have any extra coins. It weighed heavy on Minho’s 7-year-old heart that he would be spending his birthday alone  _ and _ that he wouldn’t even be able to get any candy. The rush from early dissipated, and Minho trudged unhappily past the store continuing toward the park. 

Playing at the park made Minho forget all about his loneliness. He was friends with most of the kids in the neighborhood, so it was fun to play around with them for a while. Some of them even wished Minho a happy birthday, leaving Minho feeling all warm and happy inside.

Sooner than Minho would have liked, the other kids started to go home; the sun was setting, and it wasn’t safe for them to play outside at night. Minho didn’t linger much after everybody else had left. The playground felt empty and cold without other kids, and the setting sun cast shadows around the neighborhood that could conceal anything -- monster and human alike. 

The way home again led Minho right past the corner store. It glowed invitingly in the dim light of the setting sun, and despite not having any loose change in his pocket, Minho pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Hey, kid,” the guy behind the register said, sounding bored and not looking up from the magazine he was leafing through. “We’re closin’ up in about an hour, so don’t hang around for too long.” Minho didn’t respond, wandering over to the candy aisle instead. Was it too much for him to ask for just one candy bar on his birthday?

Minho stood in the aisle, staring at the candy for a long time before he finally pulled one off the shelf. He knew it was wrong, but he really wanted  _ something _ for his birthday. Slipping the candy into his pocket, Minho walked as calmly as he could toward the front of the shop.

“Get home before dark, kid,” the guy behind the counter said as Minho left the shop. He wasn’t caught or told he couldn’t take it. It felt exhilarating.

The candy tasted as sweet as stealing it had felt.

Minho didn’t steal a lot at first, only doing it when he felt like he really deserved something. He was caught most of the time when he tried to steal something. They would call his mom and she would have to leave work early to come to pick him up. She tried scolding him, telling him that he shouldn’t be stealing, that she works hard for the things that she provides, that he should feel ashamed of himself. When that didn’t work, she just started giving him disappointed looks. Minho wished the guilt would outweigh how good it felt to steal, but it never did. 

Eventually, stealing started to feel like an escape from the shitty life that he was living. The rush he got when he successfully stole something becoming a feeling he craved. He felt like a junkie.

By the time he was 14, he was stealing expensive things - iPhones, laptops, jewelry, brand name anything - and he was stealing regularly. He couldn’t go into a store without  _ needing _ to steal something. His mom had found his stash a couple of time. She’d even caught him selling some of the things that he had stolen. 

His mother had tried to put him into a support group when he was twelve. It had been run through the local church and was a group for compulsive kleptomaniacs. He had stayed in the group for about four weeks before he stopped going. She’d initially been proud of him for going until she caught him stealing again.

She didn’t look at him the same anymore, and it hurt Minho’s heart to know that she thought so low of him, but he couldn’t stop. She told him that if he brought any more stolen things into their home, he wouldn’t be allowed to come back. He really wished that he could stop.

“Minho?” his mother called when he entered their small apartment one day after he got home from school. Minho dropped his backpack onto the ground with a thunk before making his way back to the bedroom they shared. 

“Yeah, mom?” Minho asked. He stopped cold in the door when he saw his mother standing over the box he kept his stolen trinkets in. She looked more angry than Minho had ever seen her before, but more than that, she looked so disappointed.

“Care to explain?” She sounded so angry. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look.

“Uh… Not really?” Minho said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Lee Minho,” his mother said, voice icy. “There must be more than $100,000 of stolen stuff here! Did you steal all of this?!” Minho winced as his mother raised her voice at him. She never raised her voice. Minho nodded his head shakily, not able to look her in the eye.

“I told you what would happen if I caught you stealing again,” she said, voice unsteady. It hurt Minho more than he could have imagined hearing how broken she sounded. He was the reason that his mother was hurting so bad right now. 

“Yes,” Minho whispered. When he finally mustered the courage to look up at his mother, he really wished he hadn’t. She looked so disappointed in him, disgusted by him, saddened by the reality of what she was about to do. Minho had to look away when he noticed her cheeks were wet from tears.

“I thought I raised you better than this,” she said softly. Minho fought the tears in his own eyes. He didn’t deserve to cry, he’d done this to himself. He’d done this to her.

“Get out,” she said, voice taking on a forced calm. Minho looked up at through his bangs, immediately looking away when he saw how much effort she was putting into a calm front as tears freely streamed down her. “I don’t want to see you back here unless you intend to stop stealing for good.”

“Mom,” Minho pleaded, voice small. “Please don’t.” 

“I told you what would happen,” her voice was sad. “I told you what would happen if you stole again. I’ve been trying for so long to get you to stop. I got you all of that help, I did everything I could, but if this is how you are going to treat the hardworking people of the community, I will not have it. I will  _ not _ have a thief living in my home with me. Leave. Don’t come back unless you’ve learned respect.” Minho stared at her for a long minute before he went and grabbed his backpack from the living room. Shutting the door behind him hurt worse than he’d expected.

Minho couch-surfed after that. Most of his friends had it as hard or harder than he did, but they let him in for the night, lending him whatever food they could spare and a pair of clothes if they could. Minho was grateful for whatever they gave him. 

He stayed in school for a while longer before it all became too much. The stress of not knowing where he would find his next meal or where he would spend the night led to his already mediocre grades slipping. It wasn’t long until he managed to fail out of school. 

He could tell that he’d worn out his welcome at all of the places that he could think to go so he started bouncing around the overnight homeless shelters around town. Sometimes, some do-gooder volunteer or employee would start asking him more questions than he was willing to answer, so he’d leave again. 

Minho really wished that he could stop stealing. When he left his friend’s houses, he’d often find that something of theirs had snuck its way into his pocket. Anytime he was wandering a store in search of some cheap food, a pack of gum or an apple would leave with him. Whenever a distracted enough person would pass him on the street, their wallet would find its way between his fingers.

He didn’t mean to keep doing it, it just happened.

That’s how Minho spent his years. Stealing became his livelihood, so he had to become smarter to survive. He started to sell the things he stole to people who would fence them for him. The idea that selling what he stole wouldn’t get him caught and sent to prison made him bolder. He still couldn’t walk into a store without needing to steal  _ something _ , but now he also broke into people’s homes, stealing the most expensive things he could find. 

By 20 he’d grown accustomed to his lifestyle. He’d managed to get himself a tiny apartment in a sketchy part of town, and he kept himself alive with the money he made from sealing. However, to maintain this life, he needed to steal and fence pretty regularly.

It’d been a while since he was able to get his hands on something that he was able to fence for more than a couple bucks, and he was getting pressed for cash. Rent was due in a couple of days, and Minho needed money fast. 

A quick hit meant that Minho would have to forego his normal canvassing and just hit some apartment at night. He chose one in a nicer, but not too nice, apartment complex. There wasn’t any reason that he chose the one that he did, but as soon as he’d snuck in, he regretted it. There was almost nothing valuable that he could see as he crept through the apartment with the stealth of a practiced thief. 

He’d been just about to call it a bust when all of the lights turned on, and he was completely exposed in the living room.

“You think you’re real slick, don’t you?” Minho whirled around and faced the boy standing by the lightswitch. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was giving Minho an unimpressed look. 

“I like to think I am, yeah,” Minho said, surprised at how he managed to keep his voice level and calm. The kid snorted at his false bravado.

“Not many people try to rob us,” he kid sounded more amused than Minho figured he should have in his situation. “And nobody is actually able to do it.” 

“Yeah? And why’s that?” Minho asked, trying to sneak toward the door as stealthily as he was able. Granted, sneaking around in the light while being watched doesn’t work very well. 

“You ever heard of the Stray Kids?” a voice behind him asked. Minho jumped and spun around, only to find another guy standing by the door. Had Minho really fucking stumbled into the Stray Kids’ apartment? It was just his luck to stumble into the apartment of the most notorious up and coming gang in the city. The horror stories of the things that Stray Kids have done to the people who crossed them were enough to make a grown man run for his mommy. Minho had fucked up  _ spectacularly _ .

“Maybe I have,” Minho said. He was starting to freak out a little bit. He needed to get out of here before this went sour. There was a window on the other side of the living room; if he could just get there, he could get out.

“I wouldn’t try anything dumb if I were you,” a third voice said. Minho startled as he looked at the window and saw another kid, this one lazily aiming a gun at him. How did they keep materializing out of thin air?

_ At least if I die here tonight, I won’t have to make rent _ , Minho thought in resignation.

“Alright guys, there’s no need to be aiming guns at people,” Minho chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. 

“Yeah, and there’s no need to break into other people’s apartments,” the guy by the door said, completely unfazed by the kid with the gun. Jesus, Minho was so thoroughly  _ fucked _ . He was going to skinned alive or sold to some creepy old men or ground up into a fine powder used to cut drugs or some other equally terrifying fate.

“Chan?” A voice called from the hall, Minho looked over to see yet another guy walking down the hall. He looked like he’d just woken up. Do they all live here together?! Minho was beyond freaking out at this point. All of Stray Kids in one apartment, and he was just  _ lucky  _ enough to attempt to rob them.

“Go back to bed, Woojin,” the guy by the door -- Chan -- said, not taking his eyes off of Minho. The guy in the hall -- Woojin -- rolled his eyes and walked into the living room.

“You know I love it when you’re bossy, but this is ridiculous,” he said, taking in the scene in front of him. Were they… flirting? Minho decided that this was perhaps the weirdest life or death situation he had ever been in.

“Hyunjin, Jisung, go back to bed,” Woojin sighed, giving the two other kids an exhausted look, not unlike one a parent might give a misbehaving child. They looked at each other, then at Chan, then at Woojin -- who was giving them both a pointed look -- then they both scurried off down the hall. At least the gun was out of the room now.

“You,” Woojin said, gesturing to Minho, “put your hands down, we aren’t going to hurt you.” Minho obeyed, slowly lowering his hands to his sides. The fact that he wasn’t going to die or be turned into cocaine tonight was good and all, but it brought back his original problem of not having any rent money.

“Woojin,” Chan whined from where he was standing by the door. Minho was perplexed by the fact that Chan, the cruel and merciless leader of Stray Kids, was currently whining. Not only that, he was being told what to do by some other guy that Minho hadn’t ever of.

“Why are you trying to rob us?” Woojin asked, completely ignoring Chan’s petulant whining.

“Cat burglary is how I get my rocks off,” Minho said before he could bite his tongue. It wasn’t his fault that when he was backed into a corner he got like this, it was a defense mechanism he’d learned after too many too honest encounters with cops. Woojin sighed again and gave him Minho a more disappointed look than even his mother had ever achieved.

“Alright, smartass,” Woojin said. “I’m trying to help you here, but if you don’t want to cooperate I can just let Chan bring Jisung and Hyunjin back out here and they can finish up whatever it was they were planning to do with you in the first place.” Minho’s eyes widened at Woojin’s words.

“Please don’t dissolve my body and sell my organs on the black market!” Minho said, glancing between Chan and Woojin. “I just need to make rent alright. I’m sorry that I broke into your apartment, I had no idea it was yours. I’m so sorry. Please,  _ please _ don’t kill or maim me.” Minho acknowledged that he had entirely discarded his pride and was currently begging for his life, but he didn’t want to die at the hands of this gang. He didn’t want his mother to get the news of his death being some gang hit because he fucked up and robbed the wrong place.

Woojin gave Chan a look over Minho’s shoulder. Minho looked back and watched Chan bang his head against the wall. When he looked back at Woojin, Woojin was wearing a smug smile. Minho had no idea what had just happened.

“What’s your name?” Woojin asked. Minho gave him a weird look. He’d figured that once he’d told him why he was there, they’d either let him go or kill him.

“Why should I tell you?” Minho asked.

“Because I asked nicely,” Woojin said, shrugging. Chan snorted behind him. Minho was beginning to wonder who was actually in charge here. Minho regarded Woojin for a moment longer, taking in his ridiculous pajama pants and a too big t-shirt, his open and easy to read face and his bedhead. Everything about him seemed trustworthy enough.

“Minho,” he said, giving Woojin a skeptical look.

“When was the last time you had a homemade meal, Minho?” Woojin asked. Minho felt like he stepped into a parallel reality as he watched Woojin walk into the kitchen.

“Go sit at the table,” Chan said behind him. When Minho looked back at him, he gestured vaguely in the direction Woojin had walked. “He’s not gonna ask twice.” Minho nodded and wandered off after Woojin. This was, by far, the weirdest situation he had ever landed himself in.

~~~

Three months had passed since that night when Woojin had told him that if he needed a place to stay, they’d be happy to take him in so long as he stopped going around robbing places at random and stopped selling to his current fence who was apparently cheating him. He’d been initially suspicious but had eventually agreed, figuring he didn’t have much to lose.

Nobody trusted him at first, which was understandable. After Woojin, the first person to open up to him was Seungmin who he became quick friends with. Seungmin led the charge in getting everybody else to start trusting him. The last person that Minho managed to win the favor of was Changbin, and not for lack of trying. Changbin kept himself locked away in his office most days and, taking Jisung’s advice, Minho didn’t ever bother him when he was locked away like that.

Minho was sitting in the living room now, scrolling through his phone aimlessly. After his promise to stop stealing for no reason, he didn’t know what to do with his time. He’d spent a lot of time in this exact position over the past few months.

Somebody fell into the armchair across the room and sighed deeply. When Minho didn’t look up from his phone, whoever it was sighed again. Minho looked up and saw Hyunjin slumped dramatically in the chair.

“Yes?” Minho asked, dropping his phone onto his chest.

“I’m bored,” Hyunjin said followed by another deep, melodramatic sigh.

“And?” Minho asked again.

“And let’s go out and do something,” Hyunjin said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You and me haven’t really bonded yet and both Jisung and Seungmin are busy.” Minho agreed with a shrug, figuring he had nothing better to do, and Hyunjin had a point about them having never really hung out before. 

Hanging out with Hyunjin was fun. He was eccentric and excitable, seeming to have endless energy. He would challenge Minho to different competitions -- like who could steal a cop's gun and get away without getting any heat -- or dare Minho to try to steal various things. As they wandered around the busy shopping plaza, they happened to wander past a pet store. 

“Oh my God!” Hyunjin shrieked when he saw the puppies in the window. Before Minho could react, he was being dragged into the pet store my an over-excited Hyunjin.

Minho watched in dismay as Hyunjin rolled around on the ground of puppy pen, the dogs pouncing on him and licking him. It wasn’t that Minho didn’t like dogs, he had always just been more of a cat person. Dogs were loud and dirty and high-maintenance, but cats were quiet and stealthy and clean. 

Deciding that he’d had enough of watching Hyunjin be slobbered on, Minho went off to find the cats. He hoped they had cats here.

As luck would have it, they did! The kitten room was big with lots of cat towers and wall-mounted platforms to keep the cats entertained. In the corner was a small basket of different cat toys, which Minho promptly raided returning triumphantly with a small feather toy that one of the smaller kittens immediately took notice of. Giving the toy a few playful shakes, Minho lured the kitten over to him.

The kitten was a hyperactive ball of fluff, chasing the feather with all of her might while Minho teased her. Eventually, the play wore her out and, much to Minho’s overwhelming joy, she curled up in Minho’s lap, falling asleep while Minho stroked her soft fur. 

They were still sitting like that when Minho’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It took a bit of maneuvering to get it out without disturbing the kitten, but he eventually did. Hyunjin had texted him asking where he was and telling him that Chan wanted them home for some sort of meeting. Minho texted him back quickly, telling him that he’d meet him by the entrance of the store. 

Looking down at the kitten still curled comfortably in his lap, Minho didn’t think that he had it in him to leave without her. To top it all off, he hadn’t stolen anything worthwhile the entire time that he’d been living with them, not wanting to disappoint either Woojin or Chan. It didn’t take much mental convincing for Minho to lift the kitten and tuck her safely inside his coat.

The walk home was nerve-wracking. The kitten stayed mostly calm and quiet, squirming occasionally to find a more comfortable position but mostly seeming to enjoy the warmth and security of being nuzzled inside Minho’s coat. Minho was hyper-aware of everything that Hyunjin said and looked at, concealing the kitten to the best of his abilities.

When they got back into the apartment, Jisung and Changbin were both sitting in the living room. in front of a laptop. Neither of them noticed Minho and Hyunjin walk in. 

“-worried about you, Changbin. You’ve been locked in your office for weeks now. Please tell me what’s been happening. Let me help you,” Jisung pleaded. 

“It’s nothing, Jisung. Drop it,” Changbin replied, not looking up from his computer. Minho had to admit, the guy looked a lot worse for wear. He looked paler and thinner than Minho remembered him being like he hadn’t had a good meal in a while. He was also wearing long sleeves even though the air conditioner was out and it was the middle of the summer.

“What are we dropping?” Hyunjin asked, flopping down beside Jisung and draping himself over his shoulders. Jisung grunted until his weight, half-heartedly trying to shake him off while whining about the heat. Hyunjin just giggled and held Jisung tighter.

The kitten chose that moment to let out the most pitiful meow that Minho had ever heard. Making a small noise, Minho pulled her out of his coat and started to fawn over her, scratching her chin and cooing softly at her. She seemed perfectly calm as she looked around her new environment. 

“Is that a cat?” Changbin asked, sounding completely shocked.

“It’s a baby,” Minho cooed, still making faces at the kitten who was surveying the living room curiously. 

“You stole a cat?” Changbin asked in disbelief. Minho finally looked up at the other three, holding the cat safely to his chest. Jisung was staring at him slack-jawed and Hyunjin had hidden his face in Jisung’s shoulder his shoulders shaking with laughter. 

Changbin suddenly burst out laughing, saying something about how ridiculous that was between breaths. Minho wasn’t entirely sure why he felt pride glow within himself for making Changbin laugh. As Minho idly scratched the kittens head, he thought about how cute Changbin was when he smiled. 

“Bring her here,” Changbin said, finally calming his laughter. Changbin reached his hands out, making little grabby motions for the cat. Minho chose not to acknowledge the angry, red marks that peeked from under his sleeves as he gingerly placed the kitten in Changbin's hands. Pulling the kitten to his chest, Changbin started cooing over her, tickling her ears and paws. Minho heard Jisung whispering to Hyunjin beside him, but he was too transfixed by the adorable scene in front of him. He couldn’t decide who was cuter, the cat or Changbin.

When Chan finally arrived, it was almost laughable to see the array of emotions that crossed his face as he looked at the stolen cat nestled comfortably in Changbin’s arms. It was Woojin who stepped in and told Minho that he had to take the cat back while Chan sputtered by his side, staring at the cat in complete shock.

Minho took the cat back the next day, Changbin opting to come along to see the other kittens in the store. Changbin made a noise that Minho could only describe as a squeal when he saw the kitten room.

Depositing the stolen kitten in the room was easy enough (though Minho would be lying if he said he wasn’t sad to see her go), but getting Changbin to leave the room was another story entirely. It took Minho bribing him with ice cream to drag him away from the other playful kittens.

Over ice cream, Changbin gushed about how cute they had been and how playful they were. He talked so much about how he loved animals and how he’d always wanted either a kitten or a puppy. Minho wasn’t sure that he’d ever heard Changbin speak this much before. He decided that his voice was nice and he liked to hear what he was thinking. 

Over the next few weeks, Minho and Changbin became closer to the point that Minho found himself wandering into Changbin’s office to just sit beside him. Usually, that meant Minho just sitting on his phone while Changbin didn’t even notice somebody else had come into his office. It was boring, but Minho liked to be around Changbin.

When Changbin started to self-isolate or overwork himself, Minho would drag him out to get some fresh air. It seemed that he was the only one that Changbin allowed to do that. Even Jisung couldn’t normally get him out of his office, much less the apartment when he did that. Those outings always ended with Minho feeling breathless whenever he finally managed to make Changbin smile.

Three months after the cat incident, Minho was sitting in Changbin’s office bored. Everybody else was otherwise occupied doing things that Minho didn’t bother to ask about, and he didn’t want to be alone, which is how he found himself sitting in Changbin’s office.

After about an hour, playing games on his phone had gotten boring. He had tried to watch Changbin work, but he hadn’t understood anything that was happening on the screen. Now, he was completely lost in a daydream, eyes fixed somewhere near the computer screen.

“Can you stop tapping on the desk?” Changbin snapped, not looking away from the screen. Minho was ripped out of his daydream and noticed that he was, in fact, tapping on the desk. Pulling his hands into his lap a little guiltily, Minho turned and focused on Changbin’s profile.

The only light in the room was the computer screens, illuminating Changbin’s face in an eerie array of shadows that made him look almost not quite human. He looked inhumanly perfect.

“You’re beautiful,” Minho blurted before he could stop himself. It had become increasingly difficult for him to control what he said around Changbin recently, and it had finally come back to bite him in the ass. Changbin’s fingers stilled on the keyboard and his eyebrows scrunched together, changing the shadows cast across his face. Minho didn’t think that he would have been able to look away even if he wanted to.

“Why would you say that?” Changbin asked softly. He didn’t sound upset like Minho figured he would have; instead, he sounded almost sad like it hurt him to hear Minho say that.

“Because it’s true,” Minho said. The atmosphere in the room became heavy as Changbin slowly twisted the chair so that he was facing Minho. Half of his face fell away, lost in the darkness of the room, but Minho could see the apprehension on the other half of his face. He looked terrified.

“Minho,” Changbin whispered, voice shaking. “Please don’t.”

“Why not?” Minho asked, genuinely confused. This was definitely not the reaction he had expected. Changbin just stared at him for a long time, not saying anything. Minho wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug. Minho wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss him.

“It isn’t nice to get people’s hopes up when you don’t mean what you’re saying,” Changbin finally said, twisted away from Minho. His words hit Minho like a slap in the face. He didn’t believe him.

“No,” Minho said urgently, grabbing the chair and twisting it back so that Changbin was facing him. Changbin stared at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“Wh-”

“I mean it,” Minho insisted, his hand gripping Changbin’s chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Changbin just stared at him, the half of his face that Mino could see guarded and unreadable.

Minho scrambled for a way to make Changbin believe him. He was still gripping the chair, forcing Changbin to look at him, but he couldn’t think of anything more to say that would convince Changbin that he wasn’t lying. 

“Can I kiss you?” Minho whispered finally. Changbin eyes widened into saucers as Minho stared back at him. For a second, Minho thought that maybe he had read the situation wrong. Maybe Changbin had been trying to tell Minho that he wasn’t interesting as nicely as he could. By claiming that he was lying, maybe he was trying to hint that Minho should just back off.

But then Changbin nodded and Minho’s world stopped spinning.

Minho hesitated for a moment before leaning forward and pressing his lips softly against Changbin’s. He wanted to give Changbin time to back out if he wanted to. He needed Changbin to know that he could say no.

The kiss was soft at first, then Changbin finally started reacting and it became more desperate. It was a push and pull between them, each fighting to tell the other something through the kiss but neither allowing that to happen. When they finally had to pull away to breathe, Minho felt like he was going to explode from the pure elation rushing through his body. Changbin’s head fell back against the headrest of his chair and he stared at the ceiling looking completely dazed.

“I like you a lot,” Minho said, giddy and breathless. Changbin blinked rapidly before looking back at Minho.

“You’re serious?” he asked, sounding just as dazed as he looked. The sadness wasn’t in his voice anymore and Minho counted that as a win.

“One hundred percent,” he confirmed. Changbin stared at him for a long moment before a tiny smile stretched across his face. Minho couldn’t help but think about how much he loved Changbin’s smile.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” Minho said, not waiting for a reply before he leaned forward and captured Changbin’s lips in another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again sorry about that break! i got super busy!!  
> my semester starts tomorrow morning so im gonna try my best to upload every day but next semester is a little hellish for me lmfao
> 
> as always kudos and comments keep me uploading daily even when id rather die uwu


	14. Even a Ghost Has a Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Even a Ghost Has a Sanctuary by Famous Last Words  
> Warnings: Kidnapping, drug addiction, cults

**Present Day**

Jeongin watched the landscape rush by as Woojin drove them down the deserted highway. They were on their way to The Family’s farm for the first part of their plan. The plan had been finalized a few weeks ago, but they had to wait until Hyunjin’s arm was fully healed before they could put anything in motion. Seungmin had given a clean bill of health a few days ago, which meant that everything was set in motion.

“Are you sure about this?” Woojin hissed in the front seat. He and Chan had been having the same hushed conversation for the entire drive. Jeongin had done his best to ignore them at first, but after Hyunjin had fallen asleep, there wasn’t much to do and the car was small.

“Woojin,” Chan sounded exasperated. “We have gone over this like seven times in the last hour alone. Yes, I’m sure. This is the best plan we’ve got.”

“Hyunjin’s arm only just got out of that damn sling,” Woojin whispered, sounding apprehensive.

“Hyunjin’s the best for the job,” Chan countered. Woojin stayed silent after that. They all knew it was true.

The plan was divided into three parts: scout, infiltrate, burn. For the first part, they needed to plant some people on the inside and gain The Family’s trust to get the other’s to get in later. Cults were complicated and didn’t put much online, so an inside man was what they needed to get the information and get everybody in undetected. Jeongin was the obvious first choice, both his age and his ability to lie making him ideal. Hyunjin was his backup. He’d spent his entire life on the street, so he knew how to play the role of a lost kid needing a family.

“You ready, kid?” Chan asked, pulling Jeongin’s attention away from the blur of colors outside. Chan was looking at him in the rearview mirror. He’d carefully schooled his face into a neutral expression, but his eyes betrayed his nerves. Jeongin glanced briefly down at Hyunjin, his head resting on Jeongin’s shoulder as he slept soundly. Meeting Chan’s eyes once again, Jeongin nodded. They were as ready as they’d ever be.

“You won’t be in there long. Just long enough to build some sort of trust so that you can get us in,” Chan said. Jeongin had already heard this about a hundred times. “A few days max. They might brand you, they might not, I don’t know when their next orientation is. Either way, it doesn’t really matter, you just have to make sure that they don’t see your gang tats. And most importantly, don’t make them suspicious.” Jeongin nodded along with his words, mouthing them along with Chan. 

“You worry too much, Chan,” Jeongin teased, smiling at him. “We’re gonna be fine!” Chan sighed heavily, frowning deeply at Jeongin.

“Don’t underestimate them, kid,” Chan said seriously. Jeongin sighed, smile slipping off of his face.

“I won’t,” Jeongin said sincerely. Woojin caught his eye in the mirror, briefly before looking back at the road.

“This is as far as we will be able to get you two,” he said, pulling the car to a halt on the side of the road. Jeongin shook Hyunjin away, watching as he slowly woke up and registered that the car wasn’t moving anymore.

“Ready to go, Jin?” Jeongin asked, smiling brightly at him. Hyunjin smiled softly back, his eyes looked hazy in a way that wasn’t just because of sleep. It didn’t sit well with Jeongin.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Sunshine,” Hyunjin said, reaching over and mess with Jeongin’s hair. “Let’s go join a cult.” Jeongin got out of the car and stood by the side of the highway, watching Hyunjin slid out after him.

“You two get out of there if things get sour,” Chan said out the window. “You don’t have any idea what these people are capable of.” A chill ran up Jeongin’s spine at his words, but he nodded his head. Woojin and Chan said goodbye -- not before promising to have them out of there in three days max -- and drove off, leaving Hyunjin and Jeongin alone on the side of the road.

“I think the farm is like 2 miles that way,” Jeongin said, pointing in the direction that they’d been driving for the past hour. Hyunjin hummed pulling out a cigarette and placing it delicately between his lips. The lighter sparked a couple of times in the wind before it finally came to life in Hyunjin’s cupped hand and he could light the cigarette. Shoving the lighter back into his pocket, he took a long drag before heading off in the direction that Jeongin pointed. Jeongin trailed behind him, wrinkling his nose in distaste as the acrid smell of the cigarette that drifted back toward him.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?” Jeongin asked, catching up to walk beside Hyunjin.

“Still sore, but I’ll live,” Hyunjin replied, smoking his cigarette lazily. When he finished it, he dropped it onto the ground and crushed it under his dirty sneakers. They walked a little while further before he pulled out a pill bottle and popped one into his mouth, swallowing it dry. Jeongin didn’t say anything.

It didn’t take them very long before they came across the farm’s entrance. A massive sign depicting an intricate tree was affixed to an actual tree that looked gnarled and ancient. There was a long driveway that snaked into the farm and kids milled around everywhere inside the fence. Hyunjin grinned at Jeongin when they reached the end of the driveway; his eyes were still hazy in a way that Jeongin didn’t like.

Finding someone to take them in was easy, and playing the part of the lost kid looking for a home was distressingly easy. They were placed in a huge temporary dorm together and told to shower and change. They would meet with the Elders as soon as they were cleaned up.

The water was cold and harsh against Jeongin’s skin, but he didn’t mind. He was just glad that the shower stalls were private so he wasn’t worried about anybody seeing his Stray Kids tattoo between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t huge or obnoxious, but the compass design had become well recognized as Stray Kids had gained notoriety. 

The clothes they provided were heavily starched and uncomfortable, but they covered everything that needed to be covered. So far, it seemed like it would be fairly easy to pretend he wasn’t actually in a gang. Walking back into the dormitory, Jeongin stopped short as he watched Hyunjin pop another pill into his mouth before lighting a cigarette.

“Does your shoulder still hurt that bad?” he asked, walking further into the room. Hyunjin just grinned at him, taking a long drag. Jeongin frowned and waved at the smoke that drifted over toward him.

“Seungmin said you should be able to stop taking those,” Jeongin said, keeping his voice quiet enough that only Hyunjin could hear. 

“Well Seungmin’s not here right now, and they help me a lot,” Hyunjin said, offering the cigarette to Jeongin. Jeongin waved it away and Hyunjin shrugged, placing it back between his lips. 

“Does it bother you, Sunshine?” The question wasn’t pointed, he sounded genuinely concerned.

“No,” Jeongin lied. “If it helps you, why would it bother me?” It was always easier to lie.

“We shouldn’t keep our  _ new parents _ waiting,” Hyunjin said, reaching over to take Jeongin’s hand in his. “Let’s go.” Jeongin let Hyunjin pull him to his feet and lead the way to their meeting.

The meeting was short, the Elders speaking kindly to them and accepting their stories without question. Something felt off about the entire meeting, but Jeongin wasn’t able to put his finger on it. There was something about how they didn’t question  _ anything _ that they said that set off warning bells in Jeongin’s brain. He’d expected them to ask a few questions about some of the stuff they told them or even ask how they knew each other, but they didn’t ask a single question. 

They were sent away following quick introductions and being told that the next orientation would be next week. Until then, they were to stay in the dormitory except during meals when they would be allowed to go to the cafeteria. The walk back to the dormitory made Jeongin uneasy. The sun had long set leaving the farm painted an inky black, allowing the shadows that lurked around to follow their every move. Jeongin felt eyes on him the entire walk across the farm.

The brightly lit dormitory eased Jeongin’s nerves a little, but the huge windows that covered every wall made his skin crawl. There were too many eyes here.

“I’m going to head to bed. I’m beat,” Jeongin said, eyeing the window one last time before looking back at Hyunjin. Hyunjin only nodded at him. 

Jeongin hated lying to him. It came as easily as lying to anybody else, but it took a toll on him. Crawling into the bottom bunk of one of the several bunk beds, Jeongin shut his eyes and tried not to think about the day. Before he fell asleep, he felt Hyunjin’s lips press against his hair.

“Goodnight, love,” Hyunjin murmured against his hair. Jeongin relaxed to the sound of his voice and fell quickly asleep.

Jeongin woke up again to painful hands grabbing his arm and ripping him out of the bed. He didn’t even have time to call out before he collided with the hard ground. He felt a hand grip his shirt and pull his to his feet before forcing him to stumble toward the door of the dormitory. His brain was reeling, scrambling to catch up with the current situation as he was pushed harshly through the now pitch black dormitory.

“Let me go,” he shouted, brain finally catching up. He clawed desperately at the person’s arms. The person holding him didn’t react, just tugged harshly causing Jeongin to lose his footing and stumble a bit.

“Hyunjin!” Jeongin called desperately, trying to get out of the man’s grip. The dormitory remained pitch black and silent aside from Jeongin’s cries.

Hyunjin wasn’t in the room anymore.

~~~

Hyunjin wandered back into the dormitory, satisfied with the outcome of his excursion. He wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been out, but he figured it didn’t matter because the lights in the room were still out. Silently, he made his way over to Jeongin’s bed and reached out only to find it empty and cold. Hyunjin pushed down the initial spike of anxiety that ran through his body. His mind wasn’t exactly the sharpest right now, so an empty bed could mean anything -- maybe Hyunjin had the wrong bed or maybe Jeongin had gotten up for whatever reason.

“Jeongin,” he called softly, praying he was right and Jeongin had just gotten out of the bed. The only response he got was silence. Rushing back to the bed, Hyunjin frantically searched for any sign of where Jeongin could have gone. Pulling out his phone, Hyunjin shone the light on the bed and found a neatly folded piece of paper was resting on the center of the bedspread. Cold fear roared dully under the warm blanket of the pills and whatever else he’d smoked.

Unfolding it, Hyunjin squinted at the words through the darkness. His heart stopped beating in his chest. The note was short, written in dark block lettering. It read:

**SENDING CHILDREN WAS UNWISE. GIVE CHAN OUR BEST.**

Pocketing his phone, Hyunjin did the only thing he could think to do. He ran.

The moon hung high in the sky, bright enough to wash out most of the stars and illuminate the way down the uneven path toward the gates of the farm. The fact that there wasn’t a single soul out right now made Hyunjin’s skin prickle, but he was able to run out of the compound easily. He didn’t stop running until his lungs burned and his legs gave out under him. Collapsing onto the asphalt, Hyunjin fumbled with his phone in clammy hands. He dialed numbly, raising the phone to his ear and listening to it ring.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin said, his voice breaking around the name. It was only then that Hyunjin noticed the tears flowing freely down his face.

“Hyunjin,” he sounded more alert now. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin repeated, throat closing up as he tried to force the sobs down. “I really fucked up.”

~~~

Jisung was fully alert despite the early hour. Seungmin had woken them all up, pounding on Chan’s door and telling him he needed to go get Hyunjin right now. Woojin and Chan had left to go get him, putting Minho in charge of making sure everybody else stayed put and didn’t do anything dumb. 

They’d gathered in the living room. Changbin and Minho were having a quiet conversation from where they sat in one of the armchairs together. Felix was oblivious to the tension in the room as he lightly dozed against Jisung’s arm. Seungmin had been pacing a hole in the floor. Nobody had spoken up since Woojin and Chan had left.

Keys rattled in the lock, making the entire room still as they all turned toward it expectantly -- even Felix finally managed to pry his eyes open to watch. Seungmin was at the door the instant it opened, pulling Hyunjin into his arms and guiding him gently into the living room. Woojin and Chan silently followed after them, standing off to the side while keeping a close eye on Hyunjin. The vacant and shell-shocked look in his eyes felt too familiar to Jisung.

Hyunjin barely made it into the living room before he collapsed onto the ground, dragging Seungmin down while he clutched him like a lifeline. His hands shook and his breathing was uneven, but Jisung wasn’t sure whether it was from nerves or something else.

“What happened, Jinnie?” Seungmin asked, gently brushing Hyunjin’s hair back. 

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin confessed softly. His voice sounded hoarse like he’d been crying the entire way home. “I just went out for a smoke and…” he trailed off, staring at nothing over Seungmin’s shoulder. He was lying.

“And what, Jin?” Seungmin gently prompted, his hands rubbing up and down Hyunjin’s arms. Hyunjin shifted his eyes so that he was staring at Seungmin.

“They took him,” he whispered. The room took on an unnatural stillness. “They took Jeongin. I didn’t- I couldn’t- I wasn’t-” Hyunjin’s words fell out of his mouth faster and faster until he wasn’t saying anything at all, breaths coming fast and uneven. His eyes were vacant again and he was shaking violently. It hurt Jisung to see him in this much pain, but he didn’t get up, allowing Seungmin to pull Hyunjin back to reality instead.

“Hyunjin, breathe,” Seungmin instructed, holding Hyunjin’s arms tightly. Hyunjin nodded jerkily, sucking in a deep breath, holding it, and exhaling slowly. He did it a couple more times before he had finally calmed down enough to speak.

“They left a note,” he whispered, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. Seungmin took it and passed it to Chan without looking at it, his focus still entirely on Hyunjin. Hyunjin didn’t say anything else after that, he just sat there on the floor staring at nothing.

Jisung frowned deeply, giving Hyunjin another long look before looking over at Chan. The color had left Chan’s face as he gripped the paper so tightly his knuckles turned white. He stared unblinkingly at the paper. Beside him, Woojin had his eyes closed and was taking deep breaths.

“I needa smoke,” Hyunjin muttered, standing on unstable legs. He still looked shaken, but he didn’t look like he was going to have another panic attack any time soon. Seungmin gave him a concerned look but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll come with you,” Jisung said, standing up. Hyunjin sent him a look that he wasn’t able to decipher but nodded and lead the way out of the apartment.

It was still dark outside, the sky grey with the first rays of morning sun. The early morning air was crisp and clung to Jisung’s skin despite his thin jacket. Pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulder, he walked further into the dingy alley behind their building.

Hyunjin leaned against the wall and pulled his crumpled pack out of his pocket. It was mostly empty, but he still extended it toward Jisung to offer him one. Jisung took it and pulled out his lighter, lighting the ends of both of their cigarettes. They smoked, not looking at each other and not speaking, the silence between them was suffocatingly tense.

“You weren’t going out to smoke,” Jisung said finally, not able to take the silence anymore. Hyunjin gave him a strange look. Jisung felt a little guilty bringing it up when he saw how haggard Hyunjin looked, but he also noticed how Hyunjin’s hands shook in a way that he knew had nothing to do with what had happened.

“Before they got Jeongin,” Jisung clarified, taking a long drag off his cigarette. It had nearly burned to the filter. He exhaled slowly, watching how the smoke dissipated in the dawn air before he spoke again. “You didn’t leave to smoke.”

“What are you try-”

“You went out and got more pills.” Jisung kept his voice conversational, but he sent Hyunjin a chilling look. Hyunjin’s face was carefully blank, but from the way he was clenching his jaw, Jisung knew he was pissed.

“You don’t know shit,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. Jisung dropped his spent cigarette on to the ground, turning to fully face Hyunjin.

“Are you high right now?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question. They both knew he was, even if he was coming down from the high.

“Han Jisung,” Hyunjin’s voice was icy. “If you don’t drop it right now-”

“Was it worth it?” Jisung cut him off. “Were those fucking pills worth it?” Jisung knew that he was being unreasonable, but he didn’t care. It hurt to see Hyunjin like this, and he was pissed off that he’d done it to himself again.

“I didn’t think-”

“You never think,” Jisung snapped, cutting him off again. The glare that he got from Hyunjin might have killed him if they hadn’t grown up together.

Jisung watched as Hyunjin pulled a pill bottle from his pocket and poured a couple into his palm before tossing them back dry. He never broke eye contact with Jisung the entire time.

“Really?” Jisung asked, his voice was weaker than he had wanted it to be. “After everything that’s happened tonight, you’re really gonna do this?”

“Do you want me to apologize?” Hyunjin snapped. Jisung could see the tremors in his hands subside a bit. It made him feel sick.

“I want you to get your head out of your ass for four seconds and see that those fucking pills are what caused this!” Jisung shouted, slapping the pill bottle onto the ground. “Don’t you see that it’s happening again?!”

“Don’t you dare,” Hyunjin warned, eyes dark and threatening.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t you dare bring that back up.”

“You can’t run from yourself forever, Hyunjin,” Jisung said, voice icy. “You’re gonna have to own up to this shit eventually, and stop running from everything in your life.” Jisung regretted the words the second they left his mouth. Hyunjin’s face fell briefly before becoming steely.

“I don’t need this shit from you,” Hyunjin seethed. Snatching the pill bottle from the ground, he turned and stalked down the ally in the opposite direction of their apartment.

“Sure,” Jisung called after him. “Keep running, but never leave your precious pills behind.”

“Fuck you, Jisung,” Hyunjin called, turning down another alley and disappearing. Jisung slumped against the wall and pressed the heels of his hands roughly into his eyes. That went horribly. Why couldn’t he learn to keep his fucking mouth shut?

Grabbing a cigarette from his own pack, he lit it and took a long drag, feeling the burn as the smoke filled his lungs. He hadn’t wanted to pick a fight with Hyunjin, but it just hurt so bad to see him ruining himself again. Jisung shouldn’t have reacted so emotionally; he’d never been good at checking himself when he got so upset.

Dropping the half-smoked cigarette onto the ground, Jisung stomped it out and walked back toward the apartment.

~~~

The living room remained unnaturally quiet while Hyunjin and Jisung were gone. Everybody was waiting for Chan to say something, but he had no idea what to say. 

The Family had kidnapped Jeongin. The Family had kidnapped Jeongin because Chan had thought it would be a great idea to send him and Hyunjin into their compound. Of course, they figured out they worked with Chan, they had eyes everywhere. 

Chan’s attention was ripped from thought of the farm when Jisung stomped back into the apartment.

“Where’s Hyunjin?” Seungmin asked after Jisung slammed the door behind him. 

“He left,” Jisung said, stalking through the living room and down the hall. Seungmin’s mouth dropped in shock as he watched Jisung stalk down the hall. 

“What do you mean he left?!” Seungmin shrieked, chasing after Jisung. Chan watched them go before looking back at the others in the living room. They were all watching him expectantly.

Fuck.

“Changbin,” Chan said, ignoring Seungmin’s screaming down the hall. “I need you to figure out how the fuck we are going to get in there to get Jeongin back.” Changbin nodded once, standing and leaving the living room quickly. 

“The rest of you go back to bed and try to get some sleep. We’ll deal with everything else tomorrow,” Chan instructed after he heard the door of the office close. A migraine was building behind Chan’s eyes, but he watched everybody else leave the living room and make their way down the hall. Seungmin’s screaming abruptly stopped, which Chan was infinitely grateful for.

Chan rubbed his temple and let his eyes slip shut. This entire situation had just gone to shit. Beside him, Woojin reached over and gently rubbed his shoulders. Sighing contently, Chan leaned into his touch.

“What about Hyunjin?” Woojin asked softly. Chan’s hands fell to his side and he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling instead. The headache was pounding like a drum in his ears.

“I have an idea of where he probably is,” Chan sighed. Woojin leaned over and pressed a kiss against Chan’s temple.

“You’re doing great, leader,” Woojin whispered, squeezing Chan’s shoulder one last time before disappearing down the hall. Chan took a deep breath and nodded.

It took Chan 15 minutes to walk to the gym where they normally train and spar. It was a public gym, but the back room was always reserved for them. Bribery had a magical way of making things work out like that. 

The lights were off in the empty room, but Chan could still see a form curled in the corner. Soft cries echoed around the room.

“Hyunjin?” Chan called softly, walking toward the form curled in the corner. There was no response, but the cries came to a choking halt. Chan walked over and crouched in front of Hyunjin. He had curled himself into a tiny ball in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around his legs and face pressed into his knees. He was shaking so bad that it looked painful. Chan reached out and gently ran his hands up Hyunjin’s arms, lifting his head so that Hyunjin was looking at him.

Chan sighed softly when he saw Hyunjin’s face. His cheeks were wet and blotchy and his eyes were red and unfocused.

“Oh, buddy,” Chan said sympathetically, brushing some of the tears from Hyunjin’s cheeks. He didn’t let go of Hyunjin’s face, knowing he would just curl back up if he did. “How many did you take?” The bottle of pills was discarded a short distance away, its lid was off and pills were spilling out all over the floor. Hyunjin just let out a choked sob, the tears falling fresh down his cheeks. 

“Hyunjin,” Chan tried again, making his voice firmer but keeping his touch gentle. “I need you to tell me how many you took.”

“I don’t-” Hyunjin’s words were broken off by a harsh sob. His words were slurred.

“Do I need to take you to the hospital, Hyunjin?” Chan asked directly.

“N-no,” Hyunjin whimpered. “I just t-took a few.” It didn’t calm Chan’s nerves much hearing that, but at least Hyunjin wasn’t about to OD. Chan let his hands fall into his lap and Hyunjin curled in on himself again, fresh sobs filling the room. 

The sobs sounded so harsh and broken; Chan’s heart ached for him. Reaching out, he gently pulled Hyunjin forward into a tight hug. Hyunjin didn’t protest or resist, sinking into the hug and sobbing harder as he gripped Chan’s shirt. Chan let him cry, holding him and rubbing comforting circles on his back. Eventually, Hyunjin’s sobs calmed down to hiccups, but he didn’t release his grip on Chan’s shirt.

“I really fucked up, Chan,” Hyunjin finally whispered into Chan’s chest.

“What happened?” Chan asked, keeping his voice gentle. Hyunjin didn’t speak for a long moment; he didn’t even move. Just as Chan was about to ask again, Hyunjin sat back away from Chan and leaned against the wall again.

“I… I’ve been taking the pills a lot more than Seungmin’s been giving me,” Hyunjin started. Chan kept his face carefully neutral, not wanting to accidentally shut Hyunjin off with a bad reaction.

“When… When we got to the farm...” Hyunjin took a deep breath. He was shaking again. “I saw a friend from… before. Someone I used to run with before you guys found me. I… uh… I was running out so I went and met up with her. She gave me some pills and smoked me out, and when I came back- Oh my God.” Hyunjin buried his face in his hands, fresh sobs hiding his trembling.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” Chan sighed, reaching forward and pulling Hyunjin into another tight hug.

“I fucked up so bad, Chan,” Hyunjin sobbed.

“It’s not your fault, Hyunjin,” Chan soothed, holding Hyunjin’s sobbing body. “If you had been there, they would have just taken you both.” Hyunjin didn’t say anything, but Chan knew he didn’t believe him. Chan wasn’t even sure if he believed himself.

“I don’t wanna take ‘em anymore,” Hyunjin whispered so soft that Chan almost didn’t hear him.

“We’re here for you,” Chan said, stroking Hyunjin’s hair gently. “We’re your family. We’ll help you through this.” 

“I don’t think that I can do it again, Chan,” Hyunjin said, voice breaking around the words. “I don’t think I can go through the detox again.”

“Shh,” Chan shushed, pulling Hyunjin fully into his lap. “Just ride the rest of this high out, buddy. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

They didn’t say anything else after that. Hyunjin eventually fell asleep against Chan.

~~~

Woojin had walked back to the office after Chan left to go get Hyunjin. There wasn’t a lot he could do to help, but it would be more helpful here than alone in his room. Changbin kept sneaking glances at Woojin and messing up what he was working on.

“Say what you want to say, Changbin,” Woojin said, looking over at him. Changbin let his hands fall from the keyboard into his lap. He looked uncomfortable.

“There’s no other way in,” Changbin finally said. “If we want to get Jeongin back, we are going to have to push up our original plan. The only problem with that…”

“Is that they’re gonna know we’re coming,” Woojin sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Shit.” Well, that’s just fucking great. It was times like this he really wished he drank. Getting the drop was going to be hard enough with two people on the inside, but getting in there as a rescue mission when they’d already been burned was going to be nothing short of a suicide mission.

“Woojin?” Changbin asked tentatively. Woojin looked over at him and saw him sitting cross-legged in the office chair, eyes trained on the keyboard. Woojin hummed, prompting Changbin to continue.

“Are they going to be okay?” his voice was so small and scared. Woojin regarded him carefully. It was clear that he meant Jeongin and Hyunjin, but Woojin didn’t have an answer for him. At least, not one that he would want to hear.

“I hope so, Bin,” Woojin said, slumping back in the office chair. Changbin looked over at him, before nodding in acceptance. There wasn’t much else that he could say at this point.

“Why don’t you pull up the plan,” Woojin suggested, sitting forward in the chair. “Let’s start brainstorming ways we can change it.” Changbin nodded again, pulling up the original plan of the screen.

They spent the next hour or so discussing ways they could expedite the timeframe and what could be changed so that it made more sense with their current situation. They’d figured out a rough way to make it a rescue when Chan came in looking utterly exhausted.

“How’s Hyunjin,” Woojin asked, turning away from the computer screens. Chan sighed and slumped against the door, letting his eyes close.

“Not great,” Chan said finally, taking a deep breath. “He’s going to be out of commission for the next couple weeks, and somebody’s gonna have to be with him. He’s sleeping right now. Seungmin’s with him.” Woojin nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line. He figured that would be how it went. They would only have six people to work with for this rescue.

“Jisung…?” Chan asked, looking at Woojin expectantly.

“Hasn’t come out of his room since you’ve been gone,” Woojin responded, turning back to face the screens. “Tell him what we’ve got Changbin.”

“We don’t have anything,” Changbin said, looking confused. “All we know is that there’s no other way into that place besides the front door so we just gotta change basically everything about the plan.”

“Then let’s change it,” Chan declared, pulling up the spare stool.

~~~

Chan had sent them all out of the living room telling them to go to sleep as though that were a possibility. Felix stood in the hall with Minho watching the scene in front of him. 

“Jisung, you son of a bitch, get out here and tell me what the fuck you said to him!” Seungmin screamed at the door, pounding his fist against it. Felix didn’t like yelling.

“You’re gonna wake up the neighbors,” Felix commented, walking over and leaning against the wall beside the door. “Not to mention he’s not gonna respond to all this shouting.” Seungmin sent him a scathing look.

“Oh yeah?” Seungmin demanded. “I think he’d respond just fine if I  _ broke the fucking door down _ .” His voice rose until he screamed the last part. Felix really didn’t like screaming.

“Let’s leave both Jisung and the door alone for a while,” Felix suggested, pushing himself off the wall and grabbing Seungmin’s arm, forcefully guiding him away from the door. Seungmin was saying something angry and trying to pry Felix’s hand off of his arm, but Felix just ignoring him.

Felix forced Seungmin into his own room, kicking the door closed behind him. Felix gave Seungmin one last shove, releasing his arm and allowing him to stumble across the room.

“What the fuck, Felix?!” Seungmin demanded, turning to glare at him.

“Calm down,” Felix said levelly, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. 

“Calm down?!  _ Calm down?! _ ” Seungmin shouted, sounding hysterical. “Do you understand what’s happening right now? Jeongin’s been kidnapped, and Jisung said something that made Hyunjin fucking run away while he’s fuking  _ high _ ! I don’t have any idea if either of them are safe or even fucking alive! So no, I’m not going to calm down!”

“All of this yelling isn’t going to bring either of them back any faster,” Felix pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Shouting always made him uncomfortable and his fingers twitched over where he normally kept his knives before ghosting over where his gun normally rested. He hadn’t had a chance to grab either of them when he woke up, and he felt naked without them. 

Before Felix could process what was happening, Seungmin grabbed a textbook off of the desk and launched it at Felix’s head. His reflexes took over and he ducked out of the way, causing it to slam heavily against the door.

He must have blacked out after that because when he came back to himself, he had Seungmin pinned to the floor, pressing firmly down onto his throat. Seungmin was clawing at his arm, his lips turning an alarming shade of blue.

“Shit,” Felix cursed, jerking away from Seungmin and backing away. Seungmin rolled over onto his hands and knees, pulling desperate breaths in and coughing them back up. Felix stared at him nervously. Seungmin’s coughs died down a bit, and he rolled back over onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he breathed deeply.

“Fuck, Seungmin, I’m sorry,” Felix said, guiltily eyeing the angry bruises forming on his neck. Seungmin breathed in deeply, shaking his head and waving his hand at Felix. Standing on shaky legs, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I deserved it,” his voice was hoarse. Grimacing, he rubbed at his throat. Felix hovered a distance away, unsure of whether he should stay or leave. 

“Look at me. I’m throwing a tantrum while Jeongin is off having God knows what done to him and Hyunjin has run away to God knows where,” Seungmin said suddenly, a bitter laugh bubbling out of his lips.

“We’ll get them back,” Felix tried, not sure what Seungmin needed him to say. Seungmin just nodded, not looking at Felix.

“I know he’s been taking more pills than I’ve been giving him,” Seungmin whispered. Felix frowned at him, not understanding what Seungmin meant by that.

“He tried to be sneaky, but when the pills kept running low and then magically getting refilled...” Seungmin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“He was shot,” Felix pointed out. This conversation felt like it was bordering on something that Felix didn’t want to mess with.

“Yeah,” Seungmin said bitterly. “He was also addicted to oxy. One of those things healed, and I allowed the other to fester and grow back into a massive problem even though I promised I wouldn’t.”

Oh.

The Organization did a good job of making sure that none of their charges had any contact with drugs of any kind, preferring that the kids learn skills through aggressive training and loyalty through real threats and vague promises. That’s not to say Felix was unaware of addiction, The Organization had them do some drug run when their hit requests got low, but he’d never been so close to it. He’d never stopped to consider what it meant.

Felix had no idea what to say, so he didn’t say anything. 

“Fuck!” Seungmin shouted suddenly, punching the mattress. He bent over, resting his forehead on his knees and clutched at his hair. “I’m so fucking dumb.” His words were so much weaker now. Tentatively, Felix walked over to his side, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t touch Seungmin, he just sat beside him.

Felix wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Chan came in carrying Hyunjin on his back. Hyunjin didn’t look great, face pale and blotchy and his hair a disaster. His arms were loosely hooked around Chan’s neck, but Felix could see that they were trembling slightly. His eyes were closed and he looked weak, but Felix could tell he wasn’t asleep. Seungmin looked up and gasped, rushing over to Chan and Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin,” he breathed, gently cupping his cheek. Hyunjin weakly blinked his eyes open. They were watery and unfocused.

“He needs to rest,” Chan said, walking over the bed. Felix stood and slipped silently out of the room. He already knew more than he should, there was no reason to stick around any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!  
> i think this is my longest chapter! its also the chapter when the shit hits the FAN!!!  
> comments and kudos make me upload despite my hellish semester that just started


	15. Jeongin: Runaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Jeongin end up joining Stray Kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Runaways by Famous Last Words  
> Warnings: Child abuse, kidnapping

**11 years ago**

Jeongin was 8 years old when he figured out that the only way he would survive was by lying. Jeongin had no idea if his mother loved him or hated him, but her words and her actions seemed to support both in equal parts.

When he was young, he used to color a lot and would eagerly show off his artwork. Sometimes she would praise him and even hang it on the fridge, other times she would set them aside without acknowledging them, and occasionally she would ridicule them and tear them up right in front of him. He was never able to guess her reactions, so he stopped showing her his drawings altogether. 

Every day she would ask him about school and what he’d done that day. He used to answer honestly, recounting everything that he’d done that day. Sometimes she would get excited and engage with his stories, sometimes she would listen idly, and sometimes she would scream at him. Jeongin was never able to guess which stories would set her off.

That’s when he learned it was better to lie.

As he got older, it became easier for him to guess her mood and subsequently her reactions. Her mood dictated which tales he would spin, and it got to the point that that was easier than guessing when he had to tell the truth. Lying was always so easy.

It didn’t take long for Jeongin to learn that manipulation and lying were two sides of the same coin. If he lied just right, he was able to make people bend to his will. One well-crafted story could wrap anybody around his little finger, and that’s just how he liked it.

By the age of 15, Jeongin almost never told the truth. Having an exceptional memory served him well -- allowing him to remember the intricate stories he crafted. He’d never been caught in a lie by a stranger, and he’d only been caught by his mother a handful of times when he’d misjudged her mood.

His lies normally worked well enough for him to avoid punishment from his mom, but it wasn’t an exact science. There were some days he wouldn’t guess her mood correctly and he would end up being punished. Despite her punishments never being physical, they always left him feeling small and weak.

Jeongin did well in school. He got decent grades in most of his classes, but he kept a relatively low profile maintaining mostly superficial friendships with empty promises.

The school year had finally come to an end, marking the last day of Jeongin’s freshman year of high school. Without school, Jeongin wouldn’t have any escape from the uncertain hell that was his home life. While most of his classmates were talking about all of the fun and relaxing things they would be doing over break, Jeongin had sat quietly off to the side thinking about how draining it was to be home. 

School dismissed early that day, and Jeongin found his mother sitting on the couch when he finally arrived home. He’d hoped that he would be able to make it to his room without interacting with his mom, but that was never his fate.

“How was school, dear?” his mother asked, not looking away from the sitcom playing quietly on the television. Jeongin hated it when she called him dear.

“It was fine,” Jeongin lied, turning around and putting on his most pleasant fake smile. He had been too distracted when he’d first walked in to gauge his mother’s mood, so he figured a positive neutral was a safe bet.

“That it?” his mother snapped, finally turning from the screen to face him. Her face was carefully blank, and Jeongin felt his body go cold and rigid, smile still frozen on his face. Shit. He was wrong.

“It was  _ fine _ ?” she said, standing and walking over to him. Jeongin’s backpack was heavy on shoulders, and the smile was still frozen on his face. He felt like a mannequin.

“I ask you how your day was and you just tell me  _ fine _ ?” She was now standing in front of him. Her eyes were cold and angry. Why had he been distracted when he’d walked in? If he had been paying attention, he could have come up with some story that would have satisfied his mother’s mood, but he’d been so wrapped up in his own bad mood that he hadn’t noticed.

Jeongin wished that her moods made any sort of sense.

Jeongin was shocked out of his ruminations by a sharp pain in the side of his face. The smile slipped off his face as he stared at his mother dumbstruck. Her mood was volatile and unpredictable, but her weapon of choice had always been her words never her fists.

“You ungrateful brat,” she seethed. “Just dismissing my question. You think you’re so grown up that you can ignore your own mother when she speaks to you. You’re only 15, and you will respect me while you are living in this house.” Jeongin lowered his eyes to the ground, shoulders tense.

“I’m sorry, mom,” he whispers, not sure what else to say. She’s never acted like this before.

“Oh you’re sorry now!” she shouted, gripping his hair and jerked his head back to force him to look at her. Her face was so close to his. “I don’t believe you.” A shock of fear caused him to shudder -- his mother looked like she was actually going to hurt him.

His mother slapped him again causing his head to snap to the side. Hot tears stung his eyes, but he forced them down; he was certain nothing good would come from crying in front of her when she was like this. She grabbed his cheeks roughly, jerking his head back to face her. Jeongin was worried that she’d say something else, but she just scoffed and threw him down on the steps.

“Ungrateful,” she muttered, walking back to the couch. Jeongin scrambled up the rest of the stairs as quickly as he could, afraid that she’d tire of her show and come back. His body trembled as he curled up under his blankets and finally let a few stray tears slip down his cheeks. He didn’t understand.

Jeongin wasn’t sure how long he’d laid there when a knock on his door caused him to yelp and curl further into himself.

“Jeongin, dear, can I come in?” his mother called from the other side. Jeongin sat up and willed himself to stop shaking.

“Of course, mom,” he called back, wiping the dried tears from his cheeks and pulling a book off of his nightstand and into his lap. Sometimes she got upset if she saw him doing nothing.

His mother pushed open the door and came over to sit beside him on the bed. Jeongin forced his eyes to focus on the words on the page in front of him. He nearly laughed when he saw what book he’d grabbed; it was a book he’d been reading about conning millions out of Vegas by counting cards. Jeongin longed to have that sort of luck, but he knew that he’d never done anything to deserve that sort of good fortune.

Someone had once told him he had a silver tongue with words dripping in gold and studded with rubies, but that was all he’d ever have.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier,” his mother said, placing an arm around his shoulder. Jeongin had to consciously force himself to not tense or jerk away despite her touch burning like acid against his skin.

“It’s okay, mom.” It wasn’t okay. “I understand.” He didn’t.

“You know I love you so much, my dear Jeongin?” He hated it when she said that.

“I know, mom,” Jeongin said softly. “I love you, too.” He didn’t.

His mother placed a light kiss on his temple before leaving his room. Jeongin threw the book across the room at the clothes piled in a corner, listening to the dull thunk as it bounced off and fell to the floor. Curling back up, Jeongin pulled the blanket back over his head. He hated it here. 

Jeongin listened to his mother’s socked feet padding up and down the hall as she went about her nightly rituals. Jeongin couldn’t move as he listened to her outside his room, fear paralyzing him. 

Eventually, she stopped moving around and silence blanketed the house. Complete, crushing silence. Jeongin always hated silence. Truths can be concealed in noise, but they always make themselves known in the silence. One truth that Jeongin came to accept that night was that he needed to leave this house. He needed to get out and he wouldn’t be able to come back.

His body felt heavy and wrong as he shoved random clothes and other miscellaneous things into his backpack. He wasn’t even entirely sure what he was packing or if he was packing everything he needed, but he knew he needed to leave right now. 

Jeongin cast one last look around his bedroom before pushing the window open and making his way to the ground. It was better this way. He hoped that he wasn’t lying to himself this time.

It was about an hour walk to the interstate where Jeongin hitchhiked for almost a week, trying to get as far as he could from home. Nobody questioned his baby face or his pathetic tales spun of golden thread.

After six days of traveling, Jeongin was riding with a driver that kept stealing glances at him. The trucker had been a little bit too excited when he’d picked Jeongin up, but Jeongin had been starving and exhausted and standing on the side of the road for almost a day already. When the driver had reached his dirty hand out and gripped Jeongin’s thigh, he panicked. Jeongin is still shocked he made it out of that accident relatively alright outside of some superficial bruises, a dislocated shoulder, and a sprained ankle. It was a bitch to pop his shoulder back into place, and he wasn’t able to wrap his ankle in anything except his dirty jacket, but he would be okay.

The driver wasn’t so lucky.

For weeks after that, Jeongin couldn’t sleep or eat. Anytime he closed his eyes, the unnaturally still body of the driver would flash in front of them. When sleep would blessedly pull him under, he’d dream about the feeling of the impact and the smell of blood. Anytime that he would get into another truck, he would feel how the truck had jerked when he’d pulled the wheel and would hear that disgusting crunching sound as it drove off the road.

He stood by the highway nearly two weeks later shaking and crying after seeing a deer on the side of the road.

When he couldn’t take being on the road anymore, he stopped traveling. Towns and cities had been blurring past for several weeks, and he had no idea where he was anymore. He could only hope that he hadn’t accidentally looped around and started going home.

The city he finally stopped in was an interesting one. The wealth divide was nearly palpable as Jeongin walked through the streets. One block sported three-story houses with luxury cars parked in front while the very next had government housing projects looming high with rusted out cars sitting on cinder blocks in the road out front. Jeongin found that no matter what neighborhood he was in, the streets felt dirty.

Jeongin found a park near the center of the city and decided to stay there. Nobody seemed to glance twice at him, he was just another poor kid begging for scraps from the people hurrying to their high-end government jobs. Not even the other kids begging for change and pickpocketing unwitting businessmen looked at him. This was the loneliest that Jeongin had ever been in his life. 

After a week and a half of sitting on a bench and people watching, somebody finally approached Jeongin.

“Hey, kid.” The man wore a business suit that seemed to be several sizes too big. The way he carried himself seemed confident, but out of place among the comfortable assuredness of the other businessmen hurrying around. “How old are you?” Jeongin gave him an appraising look, not sure why he had approached him.

“Old enough,” Jeongin replied, crossing his arms and looking the man in the eyes defiantly. “What’s it to you?”

“You stayin’ anywhere?” the man asked. Jeongin’s facade nearly fell as confusion washed over him. The man spoke just as confidently as he walked, but Jeongin could easily see through his false bravado -- the guy was nervous.

“I might be,” Jeongin said. “Got some friends in town.”

“Then why you been all alone in this park?” A grin spread across the man’s face. Something twisted uncomfortably in Jeongin’s stomach, and he felt cornered. 

“You been watching me?” Jeongin asked, forcing a grin to match the man’s. He didn’t know what game was being played, but he wasn’t going to let this man corner him again.

“Come home with me. I’ll make it worth your while.” Jeongin stared at the hand the man extended toward him for a long time. The season had begun to change, warm summer nights giving way to much colder autumn nights, and staying somewhere warmer sounded incredibly appealing. The whole situation felt off, but Jeongin figured that he’d be able to handle himself if worse came to worse. Taking the man’s hand, Jeongin allowed himself to be led out of the park and into the man’s sleek, black SUV. The leather stuck to Jeongin’s exposed skin uncomfortably, but he didn’t let it show as he bucked the seatbelt.

They drove for a while in silence, the man navigating them through the very rich suburban neighborhoods, avoiding the projects like the plague. Jeongin watched the huge houses and manicured lawns flash past.

“What’s your name, kid?” the man asked, drawing Jeongin out of stupor. It seemed that the man was even more nervous now that they were alone together.

“Doyoon,” Jeongin lied, looking the man up and down. His brow was slick with sweat and he kept glancing behind them.

“You got a last name?” The man began drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, not sparing Jeongin a glace.

“Kim,” Jeongin replied. “What should I call you?”

“Uhh…” He turned into a driveway. “Call me whatever you want.” Jeongin’s door was suddenly jerked open and a pair of hands grabbed him, pulling him roughly out of the car. A sharp pain in his head caused darkness to overtake his vision before he had time to process what was happening.

When Jeongin finally came to, his head was throbbing and all of his muscles ached from the uncomfortable position he was laying in. Only darkness greeted him when he finally pried his eyes open. Based on the sound of tires close to his ear, Jeongin guessed he was probably in a trunk. Something sharp dug into his wrists when he tried to move his arms. Panic bubbled inside of him as he tried to move but was just met with more pain and the walls of the trunk.

“Fuck,” Jeongin cursed softly as he realized that he was utterly screwed. It didn’t sound like there were any other cars on the road around them for Jeongin to try to flag down. Jeongin knew that nobody would be looking for him because he didn’t have anybody to miss him. 

He’d really thought things would be better once he left home.

The driving stopped eventually, and there was the sound of shuffling and car doors opening and slamming shut. Muffled voices filtered into the trunk as Jeongin stared helplessly into the darkness. The voices got closer to the trunk, and it was suddenly flung open, the sunshine blinding Jeongin. 

“Out.” It was a woman Jeongin didn’t recognize. He didn’t move.

“What are you deaf? I said  _ out _ ,” she demanded again, sounding pissed off. “The buyers are going to be here soon.” A chill ran down Jeongin’s spine at her words. Buyers.

Jeongin got out of the trunk with some difficulty and stood numbly in the crisp air. They were in the middle of nowhere, not a living soul around except for the man who picked him up at the park and this new woman. 

Probably the person that knocked you out, Jeongin thought bitterly to himself. Jeongin felt tears prick the backs of his eyes as he thought about how there wouldn’t be anyone around to remember him after he was sold off.

Maybe he’d be sold somewhere far, far away and he could start a whole new life, Jeongin tried to think positively. Maybe he’d be sold off into a better place like in those movies his mother used to watch. Maybe it wouldn’t matter that he was completely alone.

A huge, bright red SUV with black tinted windows approached the empty parking lot. Jeongin bit his cheek and forced himself to put up a brave front -- there was no use in crying now. When the car stopped, two young men stepped and began walking toward them.

“Chan! Woojin!” the woman greeted, stepping around Jeongin. Neither of them acknowledged her, choosing instead to walk past her and stop right in front of Jeongin. He fought the urge to squirm under their scrutiny.

“How old is he?” one of them asked. It was hard and assertive in a way that Jeongin hadn’t ever heard before, and he had to fight the urge to shrink away from it. 

“Why does it matter, sweetheart? You said that your client needed some fresh meat and this one is as fresh as they come.” The woman walked forward and slung her arm around one of their shoulders.

“Look at him, Channie,” she continued, gesturing up and down Jeongin. “I bet he’s never worked the corner in his life! How much fresher could you want?” The man that Jeongin assumed was Chan gave her a scathing glare as he shrugged off her arm.

“We don’t do kids, Naomi,” he said. Jeongin almost shuddered at his voice. It was different than the one who spoke before. Where the other voice could be described as a weapon, this one held a gravitas that Jeongin couldn’t quite describe. It carried so much raw power and confidence that Jeongin felt himself involuntarily shudder.

“He’s not a-”

“How old are you?” the other one -- who had to be Woojin -- asked. Woojin was staring at him critically, face carefully blank.

“Nineteen,” Jeongin said. Maybe it would have been smarter to say he was younger, but Jeongin wasn’t going to tell these people his real age.

“Bullshit,” Woojin snapped. “Answer me honestly this time. How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen,” Jeongin insisted, contorting his face into that of an innocent kid trying to make them believe him. The act brought him some comfort because lying could easily get him the upper hand in this situation. 

“What’s your name?” Woojin asked. His eyes were both so vacant and so scrutinizing at the same time.

“Doyoon,” Jeongin said. Jeongin glanced at Chan and saw him watching Woojin curiously.

“Is everything that comes out of your mouth a lie?” Jeongin blinked at Woojin in confusion. The last one he could excuse because of his baby face, nineteen was a bit of a stretch after all, but this guy had just caught him lying about his name. Nobody ever caught Jeongin in his lies.

“I-I’m not lying,” Jeongin whispered, internally cursing himself for stuttering.

“Naomi,” Woojin turned to address the woman, “if you will excuse us for a moment. I need to discuss something with Chan.” The woman nodded as Woojin pulled Chan back beside the red car where they talked for only a brief moment before stepping back.

“So,” Naomi said, looking at Chan and Woojin expectantly, “what’ll it be, boys?”

“We don’t do kids,” Chan repeated. “We are going to take him off your hands, though.” Naomi’s face darkened at his words.

“You aren’t going to take him unless you cough up the agreed payment, you brat,” she said. Jeongin yelped when he felt an arm roughly wrap around his neck and something cold and solid press into his temple.

“You either pay, or the kid dies,” Naomi said conversationally. “A deals a deal, Channie, and wouldn’t it be just a fucking  _ tragedy _ if this kid’s blood is on your hands.” Jeongin saw that both Chan and Woojin had pulled out their weapons, Woojin’s aimed at the man holding Jeongin and Chan’s at the woman. Jeongin wondered how this woman was able to remain so calm while staring down the barrel of a gun.

Chan glanced at Woojin then, for the second time today, everything happened too fast for Jeongin to process; two deafening blasts went off, the arm around his neck loosened, and a warm spray coated the side of Jeongin’s face. Distantly, Jeongin registered that it was probably blood, and it probably belonged to the man who was now sprawled on the ground behind him, dead. His suit looked more natural pooled around his still body than it had draped over him earlier.

Jeongin wasn’t sure when he fell onto the ground, but one of the men was kneeling in front of him very suddenly. Jeongin couldn't tell who it was. Jeongin couldn’t tear his eyes away from the steadily growing halo of blood seeping from the corpse.

“Did they hurt you?” The voice sounded kind, nothing like either of their voices from earlier. Jeongin could barely hear it above the ringing in his ears.

“Kid,” the voice snapped. Jeongin flinched at the voice, but still couldn’t bring himself to look away from the man, now so pale and still. The suit was stained with blood. 

A hand lightly touched Jeongin’s arm causing him to scream and scramble away from both the corpse and the men. Jeongin was breathing fast and trembling, he felt like a caged animal awaiting slaughter. He felt like he was going to pass out.

“Hey,” it was the other voice, it was soft and gentle. “We aren’t going to hurt you, but you need to calm down.” Somebody sat down in front of Jeongin.

“Take a deep breath,” whoever it was said. Jeongin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How was he supposed to take a deep breath when these two lunatics had just  _ killed  _ two people and he was now alone with them?!

“Kid!” the voice said loudly, pulling Jeongin’s attention back to it. “Breathe with me.” Jeongin nodded and did as he was asked, more out of fear than anything else.

Jeongin wasn’t sure how long it was until he was able to breathe normally again, but by the time he was, he could hear and see again. It was Woojin who was seated in front of him, wearing a concerned look that so directly contradicted the cold, impassive face from earlier.

“How are you?” Woojin asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Jeongin said truthfully. Woojin nodded like he understood.

“Is it okay if Chan cuts those zip-ties off your hands?” Jeongin only then realized that the sharp plastic was still digging into his wrists. He nodded, watching as Chan walked behind him and cut him free then immediately stepped back into Jeongin’s line of sight. Jeongin pulled his arms protectively to his chest and rubbed at the red and bloodied marks on his wrists.

“Can you tell us your name now?” Woojin asked gently. Jeongin just stared at him.

“Do you have any family? Friends? Where are your parents?” Woojin asked so many questions. Jeongin stared at him for a long time.

“No,” Jeongin finally said, voice barely above a whisper. Woojin nodded once glancing at Chan who had come back to standing beside him.

“Do you have any sort of home?” he asked.

“No.” Jeongin had no idea why he was being so honest with these two all of a sudden. Maybe it was the shock, he reasoned. Woojin glanced at Chan once more. Jeongin didn’t like that they kept looking at each other like they were able to have a conversation without words.

“Would you like to come home with us?” Woojin asked. Jeongin blinked at him rapidly. Why in the world would he go home with two people that had just shot two other people right in front of him?! Why were they even offering?!

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Woojin added as if he could read Jeongin’s thoughts. “And we aren’t going to leave you out here to die. We can take you home with us and give you a bed and some food.”

“Last time I let somebody take me with them, I was nearly sold into prostitution,” Jeongin said numbly, letting his mouth do the work without him thinking about it. Woojin huffed a little laugh.

“We won’t do that,” Woojin reassured. “Cross my heart.” Jeongin stared at him for a tense moment.

“How about we start easier,” Woojin suggested. “My names Woojin, this is Chan, and we live with five other people back in town. Have you heard of Stray Kids?” When Jeongin shook his head, Woojin continued. “We’re a kinda small gang who run most of the south side.” Jeongin stared at him, taking in all of the information. A gang.

“Do you have a name?” Woojin asked. “Preferably a real one.”

“Jeongin,” he said softly, still not understanding why he was still being so honest. Woojin smiled gently at him.

“How old are you, Jeongin?” Woojin asked again. Jeongin swallowed hard.

“Fifteen,” Jeongin said softly, hands twisting together in his lap. Woojin sucked in a sharp breath.

“We can make sure you have a bed and food, Jeongin,” Woojin said softly. “Please at least think about it.” Jeongin stared at him for a long time. It somehow felt like he was selling his soul when he finally nodded his head. He allowed them to lead him back to their car. The car ride back into town was tense and silent.

~~~

It took several weeks before Jeongin didn’t feel the need to run any time any of the others came into the same room as him. He spent a lot of time in the room that Chan had let him stay in, Jeongin figured out quickly that it was Chan and Woojin’s room and they were just sleeping on the couch for now.

Jeongin had found himself a nice seat by the living room window where he was able to look out at the city below. Autumn was now in full swing, the leaves had changed colors and the air was crisp and everybody was wearing sweaters and coats. Jeongin had always hated autumn. The leaves changed and were beautiful for a little while, but before long they all fell off the trees leaving them bare and exposed. Jeongin hated the pretty little lie right before everything was laid bare.

Woojin came over and sat beside him, also looking out the window. When they’d first taken Jeongin in, they’d done this a lot. Woojin would just sit beside him and watch the city in silence.

“How are you doing, Jeongin?” he asked. That’s how he always started their conversations.

“The leaves are all changing,” Jeongin said instead of answering. Woojin hummed beside him.

“Chan and I have been talking,” Woojin began, Jeongin looked away from the window to face him. “The school year is already in session right now, and you’re still not quite adjusted to living here, but we want you to go back to school next year.”

“Why?” Jeongin asked, confused.

“School is important especially if you decide one day that you want to leave; a decision that you are free to make whenever you’d like,” Woojin explained. Jeongin nodded and turned to keep looking out the window. Even after only a month, Jeongin couldn’t imagine not staying here with them, but he didn’t have it in him to argue right now. So it looked like he was going back to school.

It didn’t take long after that for him to become close with the others. As winter rolled around, he learned that Hyunjin loved to cuddle every one, but he learned that he didn’t mind the clinginess. He learned that Seungmin would come home after tests and would search him out and pester him until he agreed to do something to distract him from his “impending failure.” Jeongin learned he didn’t mind that much either.

Jeongin learned that Woojin had some sort of sixth sense for sensing when he was lying.  _ That  _ he minded tremendously. Jeongin also became accustomed to the constant noise and energy and, most importantly, the predictability of the apartment. It started to feel more and more like home.

For the first time since he’d run away, he was certain that he’d found a better place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading!!! im sorry i didn't upload yesterday! im taking a little study break right now so im gonna try to upload at least one more chapter!!  
> let me know what you all think!  
> not even gonna lie to yall, comments literally make my day 30000000 times brighter and i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts!! dont be shy!!!


	16. I Feel Like I'm Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to I Feel Like I'm Drowning by Two Feet  
> Warnings: Torture

**Present Day**

Jeongin doesn’t remember being knocked out, but the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a small, sterile-smelling room with his arms bound behind him and his legs tied to the chair. The room wasn’t anything like the nondescript warehouse that Stray Kids normally kept their hostages in -- it was tiny and cluttered and looked like a supply closet with a single bare bulb dangling above his head.

The zip ties dug sharply into Jeongin’s wrists brought unpleasant memories to the forefront of his mind. The sharp smell of chemicals burned his nose, and Jeongin forced himself to analyze the various cleaners and other chemicals around the room instead of thinking about the stinging in his wrists. A chill ran up Jeongin’s spine as he noted that all the chemicals looked just like the ones that they used to clean up their “messier” interrogations. What were they planning on doing with him?

The door was only a couple feet in front of him, but far enough to be out of reach. Jeongin strained his ears to listen to the hallway, but everything was eerily quiet. There didn’t seem to be a living person anywhere near him.

There were no windows in the room so Jeongin had no idea what time it was or how long he’d been unconscious. Judging by the ache in his muscles, it had been a while. But that could have also been from the fact that he was kidnapped, he thought bitterly. He didn’t have very long to dwell on his bitterness, because right then the door was flung open and three people that Jeongin recognized from his meeting with the elders made their way into the cramped closet. The hallway behind them was filled with chatter and commotion, but all of that was abruptly cut off when they slammed the door shut. 

So the closet was soundproof. Jeongin tried not to think about what that meant for him.

“I hope you are taking a liking to your current accommodations,” one of them said, looking around the closet as if taking it in for the first time. She wasn’t very old, maybe in her late 30s or early 40s. She was tall and made of sharp angles, and she kind of reminded Jeongin of a Disney villain. 

“It’s a little bit loud,” Jeongin quipped back, making a show of looking around without actually letting the people out of his sight. One of the men scoffed.

“We will get that looked at,” the woman replied, a small smirk dancing on her face.

“Enough,” one of the men said, stepping forward. He was older than the other two, perhaps in his late 50s, and he carried himself with dignity, like others should fall to their knees and worship him. Jeongin suppressed a shudder as the man leveled him with an icy look.

“I’m not interested in your games,” he said simply. Jeongin stared back at him evenly, refusing to give in to the urge to cower away. “I want to know more about Bang Chan and what two of his  _ associates _ are doing at my farm.” He said the words like they were vile on his tongue, his face contorting in disgust at the mere thought of Chan sending somebody to his farm.

“I don’t know Mr. Bang,” Jeongin said evenly. They had probably seen his gang tats by now, so it wouldn’t be wise to pretend that he didn’t know what they were talking about. The Stray Kids tattoo is given to anybody who joins their ranks, though, regardless of their position. The inner circle and the lowest of runners have the same tattoos, so maybe Jeongin could use this to his advantage.

“We’ve seen the tattoos,” the woman said, she still wore an easy grin. Jeongin mentally nodded, congratulating himself for not trying something dumb.

“I work for Mr. Bang,” Jeongin confirmed innocently, “but I’ve never met him. I was living pretty rough and one of his goons gave me a job.” He looked between the older man and the woman, hoping that he looked innocent enough to be believable. He wasn’t sure how much they knew about how Stray Kids operated, but he was hoping he sounded believable enough.

“Why did you come here?” the man asked sharply. Jeongin inhaled sharply at the question. Without Hyunjin here, the story they’d come up with about running away together kind of fell apart, but Jeongin dropped his eyes to the ground and said the first thing that came to mind.

“I wanted out,” he confessed quietly. The words felt disgusting coming out of his mouth, but the way that it made his voice tremble made it sound more believable. Thank god for small miracles.

Jeongin looked up through his bangs and watched as the three of them exchanged looks. They all kept their faces completely neutral, but everybody’s eyes are expressive if you know how to read them. They weren’t buying his story, but they didn’t have enough evidence to dispute him.

“Your companion?” the old man asked. Jeongin finally looked up at him properly, blinking innocently at him.

“My… companion?” he asked. He wasn’t a fan of not knowing how much they knew, especially about Hyunjin and the others. Jeongin could only hope that Hyunjin was able to get out because it wouldn’t matter what stories he was able to weave if Hyunjin told them something different.

“That other degenerate you came in with,” the man clarified. Jeongin wanted to scoff at his word choice.  _ Degenerate _ , that was rich coming from him. On the plus side, it seemed like they were pretty much clueless about how Stray Kids worked and about who was in direct contact with Chan.

“I didn’t really know him,” Jeongin said, eyes flitting around the room and shoulders hunched nervously. “He was just somebody I met through the network.” Dread filled Jeongin’s body as he watched the woman’s easy grin become more predatory in an instant.

“And why exactly were you shouting for-- what was his name again? Hyunjin? Why were you calling out for him when Jay here grabbed you if you really don’t know him?” the woman’s voice was as relaxed as her stance, but her eyes were sharp and her words were calculated. Jeongin mentally cursed himself for being so stupid. He forced tears to his eyes to buy time as he wracked his brain for anything  _ else _ that had slipped past him.

“He was the only person that I even vaguely know here. You kidnapped me, and I was scared!” Jeongin sobbed, relief flooding him when he saw annoyance replace the sharpness in the woman’s eyes. Maybe he was acting too calm. If he started acting hysterical, maybe they’d believe him more. 

Jeongin forced more panic up to the point that he felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. It made it difficult to keep as close an eye on them as he would have wanted, especially when black spots started dancing in front of his eyes, but if this actually worked it wouldn’t matter much.

It felt like Jeongin was watching in from the outside as the man who had yet to speak stepped forward and roughly grabbed the front of his shirt. Suddenly, the panic wasn’t so fake. The man slapped Jeongin roughly across the face, effectively shutting him up.

“Are you quite done?” the old man asked sounding disgusted and putout. Jeongin swallowed his whimpers, nodding sharply focusing his terrified expression on the man. The one who had slapped him stepped back to where he stood behind the other two.

“Fantastic!” the woman said, her grin unnerving Jeongin more and more the longer it was directed at him. “Jay brought all sorts of toys with him,” she continued, “but we won’t let him use them unless he needs to, so be a good boy and answer our questions.”

Jeongin stared mutely at her. The way that the old man and the woman spoke chilled Jeongin much more than the threat of torture ever would. The only thing that Jeongin could think to do was keep up the act.

“Tell us what you know about Bang Chan,” the old man instructed. Jeongin’s eyes flitted quickly over to him.

“I don’t know him! I swear!” Jeongin pleaded. “I just moved drugs! All I wanted to do was graduate high school and get a real job! You have to believe me!” The three of them exchanged another look. They still didn’t believe him, but they were getting unsteadier.

The younger man -- Jay -- stepped forward again. Jeongin’s entire body went rigid as he caught sight of the metal glint along his knuckles.

“Let’s see if we can change that story of yours any, kid,” the woman said pleasantly, taking a step back.

It didn’t take long for the tiny room to be filled with the disgusting sound of bones cracking and screaming.

~~~

Seungmin’s back twinged from how long he had been sitting on the hard tile of the bathroom floor, but he didn’t dare move for fear of disturbing Hyunjin. It’d been about a day and a half since Chan had brought him home half unconscious. He’d slept for almost 12 hours after Seungmin had gotten him calmed down and settled in the bed, and then he’d become violently ill. Seungmin stayed by his side stroking his hair, forcing him to sip water, and holding him as he sobbing incoherently into Seungmin’s chest. 

When that finally calmed down, Hyunjin had collapsed into a trembling, whimpering mess in Seungmin’s lap. Seungmin was pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, but he hadn’t moved in a while and he was clutching Seungmin’s shirt like he’d disappear if he let go. Seungmin ignored the pain in his back and continued to rub Hyunjin’s back, resting his chin gently on the crown of Hyunjin’s head.

The door creaked open and Minho stuck his head in.

“How’s everything going?” he whispered, looking down at Hyunjin’s sweat-soaked, trembling form. Stepping in further, he placed a glass of water on the edge of the bathtub beside Seungmin, gesturing for him to drink some of it. Seungmin smiled gratefully as he drank some of the water, not realizing just how thirsty he was until he’d finished the entire glass.

“I figured you’d been more focused on him than yourself,” Minho teased, filling the empty glass in the bathroom sink and passing it back to Seungmin who gave him a sheepish smile but accepted it, setting it on the edge of the bathtub again. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been preoccupied. Minho lowered the lid of the toilet and sat down facing them.

“How is he?” Minho asked softly, his eyes softening as he looked at Hyunjin again.

“He’s been resting for a while,” Seungmin whispered, careful to keep his voice low so he doesn’t disturb Hyunjin too much. Seungmin brushed Hyunjin’s sweat soaked bangs off of his brow, feeling the fever on his fingertips. It broke Seungmin’s heart to see how much pain he was in, but it looked like he’d finally managed to tire himself out enough to sleep just a little bit. Minho sat with him in silence for a while before Seungmin spoke again.

“I’m so stupid, Minho,” he whispered, barely voicing the words at all. Minho was watching him in clear confusion. Seungmin looked back at Hyunjin, not able to look Minho in the eye as he continued speaking.

“I noticed when he started taking more pills,” Seungmin confessed, his hands resting on Hyunjin’s back. “If I’d done something about it instead of just  _ letting _ it happen, none of this would have happened the way it did.” Seungmin felt tears sting the back of his eyes and desperately tried to blink them away. What right did he have to cry?

“Oh, Seungmin,” Minho said, his voice filled with sympathy. Seungmin felt him move to sit beside him and put his arm around Seungmin’s shoulder. Seungmin rested his head on Minho’s shoulder and a few stray tears escaped as he watched Hyunjin.

“Why didn’t I stop him?” Seungmin whispered, his voice shaking.

“This isn’t your fault, Seungmin,” Minho reassured, squeezing Seungmin’s shoulders gently. “You didn’t know any of this would happen.”

“I should have known,” Seungmin whimpered. He should have known that nothing good would come from just  _ letting _ Hyunjin take as many pills as he wanted. Seungmin had deluded himself into believing that Hyunjin was really just taking them for the pain. He’d told himself that the Hyunjin he knew wouldn’t succumb to something like this. He’d been so stupid.

It didn’t matter what he believed Hyunjin was able to do or not, this was a disease and he’d ignored it. He’d hoped and prayed that it would just go away and he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Fuck! He was so  _ fucking stupid! _

Seungmin didn’t realize he was opening crying until he heard Minho shushing him gently.

“Why don’t you go get something to eat and try to sleep a bit,” Minho suggested gently. “I’ll stay with Hyunjin.” Seungmin shook his head, sitting up off of Minho.

“No, I should stay here,” he replied, placing a soft kiss on Hyunjin’s head as he continued to stroke his back. 

“Seungmin-”

“I said I’m not leaving, Minho,” Seungmin snapped, glaring at him. Minho sighed again, but nodded and stood up.

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” Minho conceded. Before he left, he refreshed the water in Seungmin’s glass and gave him a pointed look as he set it back beside him. Seungmin watched him leave then turned his attention back to Hyunjin who was still trembling in his arms. 

“I’m sorry, Jinnie,” Seungmin whispered. Hyunjin’s hands tightened around his shirt, making Seungmin think that maybe he wasn’t asleep after all.

~~~

Jeongin wasn’t sure how long he’d been here. A day? More? Less? He had no concept of time anymore. The fumes of the closet made it hard to breathe. Or maybe it was the blood steadily trickling from his nose down both his face and throat. Jeongin didn’t know.

He learned his captors usually turned the light off when they left. At first, Jeongin didn’t understand, but after sitting in the crushing silence and the pitch black for so long, he was starting to see this was just another one of their torture tactics.

Jeongin’s entire body hurt. His left eye was swollen shut, or at least it felt like it was he couldn’t actually see anything at all in the darkness so he wasn’t sure. He was pretty sure they broke a couple of fingers, but he’d lost sensation to his hands some time ago allowing them to hang limply in the bindings behind his back. His nose hadn’t stopped bleeding since they left, so Jeongin figured it was probably broken too.

Jeongin shut his eyes and whispered a tiny thanks into the darkness that most of what they had done so far just basic physical torture. Sure, he wasn’t as used to pain as Felix or Hyunjin were, but he could push through it. Plus, the very real reactions to the abuse only helped in his pathetic little story.

The lock on the door clicked causing Jeongin’s head to whip up to look at the door. Searing pain shot down his back and arms at the sudden movement, but Jeongin suppressed the whimper lodged in the back of his throat. The door swung open and two people walked in silently. Light flooded the tiny room forcing Jeongin to squint against the bright assault.

“Oh, dear! You look terrible! How are you feeling?” the woman from earlier asked sweetly. The old man wasn’t with them this time. For some reason, this fact sent a cold chill down Jeongin’s spine. The woman smiled at him with her sharp, cruel smile. Jeongin wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed the heavy door being closed, but the man she had brought with her was leaning lazily against it.

“It’s incredibly impolite to not answer your hospitable host’s questions,” the woman chastised, her smile never falling from her face.

“Please let me go,” Jeongin whispered, voice pathetic and shaky as he forced tears to well in his eyes. The woman tutted and walked over to the shelves near her to idly play with some of the gleaming silver tools that had been laid out there the last time they were here.

“You’re still not giving up your little act?” she asked, spinning a wicked-looking tool so the light glinted off of it. Jeongin shivered when he saw the sharp teeth decorating one edge of it. 

“I-it’s not an ac-act,” Jeongin pleaded, not at all trying to force the terror out of his voice as she picked up a different tool.

“You know what?” she set the thing back down and turned to face Jeongin from where she stood. “I hate being lied to, but you make it so fun! Most kids give up so quickly, but you are giving it your all!” She walked back over to him, her movements more reminiscent of a large cat stalking its prey than a human person. She stopped right in front of Jeongin and brought her hand to the side of his face, gently caressing his cheek. 

“Sure, you’ve nearly fooled Mr. Sims, which is no small feat,” she praised sweetly. “Only thing is,” she continued, her fingers gently skimming Jeongin’s jaw, “I’m not so easily fooled.” Her face fell from the sweet look she was giving him before to a stony glare.

“I’m not trying to f-”

“Save it,” she snapped. She gestured for the man beside the door to step forward. Before Jeongin could figure out exactly what was happening, a cloth was being tied to his face, covering his nose and mouth. A sharp pain radiated through his face as the man tied the cloth behind his head tightly, pressing it against his nose. 

“I’ve brought a new friend who’s proficient in…” she trailed off, tapping a perfectly manicured nail gently against her cheek as though in thought. “Well let’s just say that his skill set is different from Jay’s and we have found it to be more... persuasive.” The cloth stuck to the blood covering Jeongin’s face as he stared at the woman in front of him. She was smiling again with her hands clasped in front of her as if she had just given Jeongin a present and was eagerly waiting for his reaction. When the man stepped away, she stepped closer to Jeongin and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder sending a shock of pain down his arm.

“Let’s see how long your little story lasts after this,” she whispered, voice close to Jeongin’s ear, before squeezing his shoulder harshly drawing a pathetic sound out of Jeongin at the pain. Stepping back she beckoned the man forward again.

“Not enough that he passes out,” she instructed, crossing her arms and watching. There was a glint of mirth in her eyes that made Jeongin want to die. Suddenly, his chair was being tipped back onto the floor. An involuntary cry left his lips as his hands were crushed under the combined weight of the chair and his body. 

“Remember to breathe,” the woman said cheerily. Her statement confused Jeongin momentarily until a massive jug of water entered his vision. He couldn’t react before water crashed against his face stealing his breath from him. He panicked and tried to wiggle away from the water which only wrenched his shoulders and crushed his fingers more.

The deluge stopped and Jeongin sputtered, attempting to breathe through the thick, wet rag still on his face. The woman was crouched beside him, stroking his sopping hair off of his face.

“All of this can end if you just answer my questions,” she whispered.

“I don’t-” She gripped his face tightly cutting him off and forcing him to look at her. She stared at him for a long moment before dropping his face.

“Do it again,” she instructed, stepping away. Jeongin tried to pull in a breath, but the water came faster than he was able. His vision swam and tears mixed with the water streaming down his face.

The last thing he thought before panic overtook his entire mind was that Chan better get here soon or they’d be retrieving his dead body.

~~~

Changbin’s head was pounding. Woojin had stayed for a little while after they’d started working on a new plan, but he’d left when Chan had come back. Changbin wasn’t  _ super _ sure when that had been, but it was long enough ago that his eyes stung when he blinked and his head was throbbing.

Groaning, Changbin sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Changbin listened to the silence of the apartment outside of his office, missing the noise and energy that usually filled the space.

Changbin's entire body cracked as he stood up and stretched his stiff muscles. He needed to move around for a little while. Leaving the confines of the office, Changbin noticed how dark and still everything was. It didn’t surprise him much that he’d worked for more than a day or that it was now the middle of the night, but the light in the kitchen did make him pause and check his watch. It wasn’t uncommon for some of the others to be up at odd times -- especially Chan -- but everything was so silent that it still shocked Changbin.

Changbin quietly padded toward the kitchen, figuring that he could probably get a granola bar and also see who was up at this hour. Stepping into the kitchen, Changbin paused when he saw Minho leaning against the counter, sipping some tea and scrolling through his phone.

“You’re up late,” Changbin broke the silence, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips unintentionally. Minho looked up at him, his brow creasing in concern as he looked at Changbin. Changbin self consciously rubbed at his cheeks, knowing that he probably looked like hell.

“So are you,” Minho pointed out, setting his mug down and pocketing his phone before walking over to Changbin. He gently grabbed Changbin’s wrists and pried them away from where they were still hiding his face.

“When was the last time you ate?” Minho asked gently, mouth set in a thin line. Changbin knew that it was just worry, but it still dug up something inside of him that spiked his anxiety and left him feeling small and hollow. He tried hard to push these feelings down, Minho was exhausted just like the rest of them, and his words and actions were filled with gentle love, but his expression was hard and it scared Changbin. His anxiety must have shown because Minho’s expression immediately softened and he pulled Changbin into a gentle hug. 

“I’m sorry,” Changbin whispered against Minho’s chest. Minho shushed him, rubbing comforting circles onto his back. They stayed like that for a while, quiet and comfortable. Eventually, Minho pulled away and guided Changbin to the small table before heating him up a small amount of leftovers. Minho sat across from him and just stared until Changbin began to eat little bites of the reheated meal.

“What did you find?” Minho asked as he watched Changbin nibble at the food.

“Not a lot more than what we already knew,” Changbin admitted in defeat. They already knew almost everything that they could about the cult which is why they had sent Jeongin and Hyunjin in the first place. They needed them to gather inside information, and they needed somebody with a foot in the door to get the rest of them in when the time came.

“Whatever more you found or however you changed the old plan is valuable enough,” Minho reassured, reaching forward to squeeze Changbin’s wrist.

“I need to talk to Chan,” Changbin said, setting the silverware down. He hadn’t eaten very much.

“What you need to do is finish that food. Plus, Woojin locked Chan in their room as soon as he brought Hyunjin home which was sometime yesterday evening,” Minho told him, giving him a stern look when he tried to stand up. Changbin gave him a sheepish smile and sank back down into the chair.

“Woojin and Chan have been locked in a room together for more than a day?” Changbin giggled, taking another bite to please Minho.

“I think Woojin is just forcing Chan to sleep, you nasty,” Minho laughed, finally relaxing a little bit as he watched Changbin eat. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Changbin forced himself to eat the rest of the food that Minho had given to him.

Changbin sat and watched as Minho took the dishes and set them in the sink. Minho leaned against the counter by the sink and picked his tea back up. The time was nearing 4 in the morning, but it looked like there was something more hanging on Minho than just fatigue from the hour. Changbin stood up and walked over to where Minho was standing cradling his tepid tea.

“Why are you still up?” Changbin asked, leaning against the counter beside Minho and resting his head on his shoulder. Minho automatically wrapped an arm around Changbin’s waist but didn’t speak immediately. Changbin gave him some time, allowing him to sip his tea and collect his thoughts.

“I’m worried,” Minho finally said. Changbin tilted his head slightly, looking up at Minho who was staring intently at the nearly empty mug of tea. Minho sighed and set the mug down beside him.

“I mean we all are,” Minho said softly, chewing on his lip. “We are worried about Jeongin and Hyunjin, but I’m worried about Seungmin, too. You should have seen him today. He’s trying to take the blame for everything, and he won’t come out of that damn bathroom.” Changbin listened silently, wrapping his arms around Minho’s waist hoping to provide any amount of comfort.

“And I’m worried about Chan,” Minho continued. “He takes the blame for everything even if none of this is his fault. And I’m worried about you.” Minho finally tore his eyes away from the spot that he had been staring at on the wall and looked down at Changbin.

“You never take care of yourself when things like this happen,” Minho carried on, eyes filled with worry and concern. “Not that anything like this has happened before, but you’ve been locked in that office completely obsessed with whatever you were doing for almost two days now. Two days, Changbin. You haven’t had anything to eat or drink and you haven’t slept in two days.” Guilt filled Changbin’s gut like a swarm of angry hornets.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Changbin said softly, looking away from Minho’s intense gaze.

“Let’s just go to bed,” Minho sighed, lacing his fingers with Changbin’s. “You can talk to Chan about what you found tomorrow.” Changbin nodded and squeezed Minho’s hand. Minho pushed himself off the counter, but before he could start walking back to their bedroom, Changbin pulled him back against himself and placed a sweet kiss against his lips.

“I love you,” Changbin whispered, his lips only centimeters from Minho’s. Changbin felt Minho’s lips lift slightly into a smile before pecking Changbin’s lips and pulling away.

“I love you, too,” Minho said earnestly, holding Changbin’s cheeks between his hands. The spell was broken by Minho stifling a yawn causing Changbin to laugh.

“Bedtime,” Changbin announced, taking Minho’s hand and leading him back to their room.

~~~

Jisung leaned against the bathroom door jam looking at Hyunjin and Seungmin laying on the floor. Hyunjin was curled in Seungmin’s lap, he was trembling and sweating and his hands were clutching Seungmin’s shirt so tightly his knuckles were white. Jisung figured he probably wasn’t asleep even though his eyes were closed.

Seungmin was leaning against the edge of the bathtub in what was probably a really uncomfortable position with his arms loosely looped around Hyunjin. His head had lolled backward and he was dead asleep. There was a half-finished plate of food on the edge of the bathtub next to him along with an empty glass of water. 

It was barely 6 am, the sun hadn't even risen yet, but Jisung hadn't been able to sleep and he found himself here watching Seungmin and Hyunjin. He hadn’t talked to either of them since his fight with Hyunjin. After he’d come back inside, Minho had come and talked to him, but mostly he’d been left alone. Felix eventually came back into their room and had silently rubbed Jisung’s shoulders while Jisung kept hitting his mod, trying to ease his nerves. He’d gone through almost a quarter of a cartridge, and it hadn’t worked.

So he found himself here feeling ugly and guilty as he looked down at his friends. Seungmin had been here with Hyunjin since Chan had brought him home two nights ago. Jisung had heard Minho try to convince him to go eat or go to bed yesterday, but he had outright refused which didn’t surprise Jisung. Looking down at him now, though, a new thread was added to the ugly tapestry of emotion being woven in Jisung. Seungmin looked pale and exhausted. Before he could think better of it, Jisung stepped into the bathroom and crouched down beside Seungmin, shaking his shoulder a little bit, careful not to jostle Hyunjin.

“Seungmin,” Jisung whispered, wincing as his voice echoed around the tiled bathroom. Seungmin cracked his eyes open, grogginess and annoyance visible in equal parts.

“What?” he asked. His voice was sharp despite the dullness of lingering sleep.

“I can take care of him if-”

“Fuck off, Jisung,” Seungmin cut him off, leveling him with a deadly glare.

“Seungmin, please, you can’t be ser-”

“I said get out,” Seungmin gritted out, keeping his voice low. Annoyance bubbled in Jisung’s gut, but he tried to temper it telling himself that this was a completely justified reaction to his earlier actions. Before Jisung could open his mouth or formulate any sort of apology, a new voice stopped all of Jisung’s thoughts.

“Go to bed, Minnie,” Hyunjin’s weak, hoarse voice said. Seungmin blinked down at Hyunjin. His eyes were still closed and he was still laying on Seungmin, but he had released his death-grip on Seungmin’s shirt.

“But Hyunjin,” Seungmin sputtered quietly.

“You need to rest,” Hyunjin managed to get out, his face twisting in discomfort. Jisung tentatively stepped forward, wary of Seungmin’s earlier anger, and rubbed a hand down Hyunjin’s back.

“He’s right you know,” Jisung pointed out. Seungmin glared at him again, but it lacked any of the earlier heat. “You aren’t going to be any help to Jeongin when he comes home if you are so exhausted you can’t move. Go eat something and get some rest.” Jisung felt Hyunjin working hard to breathe through the nausea and vertigo while attempting to push himself off of Seungmin. Seungmin’s hands shot out to steady Hyunjin, but he weakly batted them away. Seungmin stared at Hyunjin as he leaned against the wall, dropping his head back against its to take deep shaky breaths. 

“Go,” Hyunjin managed to say before he curled in on himself, clutching his head. Jisung sank down beside him and pulled him gently into his side feeling Hyunjin grasp his shirt the same way that he had been holding onto Seungmin. Seungmin gave Hyunjin one last lingering look before conceding.

“I swear to God, Han Jisung,” Seungmin threatened, standing up. “If you do or say anything to upset him-”

“You’re not the only one who cares about him, Seungmin,” Jisung shot back, sending him a scathing look. There was only so much that he could take. Seungmin’s face fell, but he nodded and finally left the bathroom. The bathroom fell silent as Jisung ran his hands up and down Hyunjin’s back, the entire situation so similar to all those years ago when he’d finally gotten Hyunjin back.

“Have you been drinking water?” Jisung asked, voice barely loud enough for even himself to hear. It didn’t seem to matter though because Hyunjin’s head jerked in what Jisung could only assume was supposed to be a nod. Jisung let the room fall back into silence again, just trying to make sure that Hyunjin was as comfortable as he could be on the tile floor.

“Jin?” Jisung broke the silence. Hyunjin made a low noise beside him, not opening his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispered. “I’m sorry I said all those things to you, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t as supp-” Jisung cut off with a yelp when Hyunjin pinched his side.

“Stop apologizing,” he rasps. The worst of the symptoms must have passed, Jisung thought as he rubbed his stinging side. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Hyunjin says eventually, his voice weak and his eyes squeezed shut like opening them would be bad. “For what I said and also doing this again, but we said what we said and did what we did. You act like we haven’t fought before.” Hyunjin laughs weakly but it dissolves into a groan and he curls more into Jisung’s side.

“Do you remember when we were younger and we broke into that old woman’s house because we didn’t know she was still alive?” Jisung asked, holding Hyunjin as he shivered and breathed deeply.

“I remember you splitting when the cops showed leaving me to take the fall,” Hyunjin replied. Jisung grinned, it wasn’t often that they talked about their childhood, too many bad memories to avoid, but it always filled Jisung’s chest with warmth whenever they did talk about it.

“I wasn’t gonna stick around and greet those trigger happy fuckers,” Jisung quipped.

“Ass,” Hyunjin breathed, pinching Jisung again. They fell into another silence, only interrupted with Hyunjin’s small groans of pain and shuddered breaths as he forced the nausea down.

“That was the first fight that we ever had,” Jisung said softly. “You didn’t talk to me for almost 2 months.”

“I think you deserved longer,” Hyunjin replied.

“It’s a good thing your so sick right now,” Jisung said, glaring down at him playfully. Despite everything, Jisung was glad that he and Hyunjin were talking again - he wasn’t sure that he would be able to live with himself if he’d lost Hyunjin again. Jisung allowed the silence to fall again, letting Hyunjin rest even though he knew that he wouldn’t be sleeping. Jisung had lost Hyunjin once and he didn’t plan on that happening again. 

“We are gonna get Jeongin back,” Jisung whispered, feeling the goosebumps decorating Hyunjin’s arms and he ran his hands up and down them. “We’re not gonna leave him to take the fall.” Hyunjin didn’t reply, but he leaned more heavily into Jisung’s side.

Jisung really hoped that Chan and Changbin had come up with some sort of plan to get Jeongin back soon. He didn’t plan on losing anyone ever again.

~~~

The darkness was crushing but it was such a welcome respite from what it meant when the lights were on that Jeongin was learning to appreciate it. They had mercifully righted his chair before they left, something about not wanting him to choke on his own blood. The reasoning didn’t matter, what mattered was that Jeongin was able to hang his head down so that the wet rag wasn’t pressed against his face anymore. 

Time didn’t feel real anymore. Jeongin held onto the faith that Chan would be here soon to save him, but everything hurt so bad. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on for.

It didn’t feel like nearly enough time had elapsed before the door was being pushed open again and the light turned on. Jeongin kept his head hung low, hoping that maybe that would think he was asleep and leave.

“We’ve gotten alerts in our system that somebody in digging around in places they shouldn’t be.” This was a new voice. Jeongin lifted his head slightly to see who had come in. The woman was back along with another one of her torturing thugs, but with her was another woman. Where his first captor was tall and angular, the new woman was short and stocky. The only similarities between the two women were the eyes -- cruel.

“Do you know anything about this, kid?” his initial captor asked, coming over and crouching in front of him. She was smiling again. Jeongin couldn’t figure out why she was always smiling, but it unnerved him. 

“Why would I know anything about  _ your _ system?” Jeongin spat. The woman tsked and grabbed the cloth, forcing it back over Jeongin’s face and smashing Jeongin’s nose with a sickening scrape of bone-on-bone. Jeongin gasped and tried to pull away, but he was still bound and he felt weaker than he’d ever been in his life.

“How about you cut the act and tell us why your little friends are lurking around in our system,” the other woman said, stepping forward beside his captor who was still holding the wet cloth over his nose and mouth.

“I don’t know! I swear!” Jeongin chokes out against the new flood of blood and the wet cloth.

“We know it was one of Chan’s boys,” the new woman says. “And there’s no reason they’d be fucking around in our system unless they were trying to get you back.”

“And why would they be trying to do that unless they cared for you,” his captor asked sweetly, finally releasing the cloth. Jeongin doubled over as far as he could and coughed some of the blood that had been dripping down in throat up. Breathing around a mouth full of blood and a broken nose was a lot more difficult than he ever could have imagined.

“Maybe they just wanna see how mad they can make you,” Jeongin said lowly, looking at his captor through his eyelashes, he felt the blood and saliva dripping from his mouth. He must look like shit, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Her cruel smile faded slightly at his words.

“Maybe Chan and his boys are just as vicious as everybody says, and they really don’t care about a little collateral damage from some errand boy they never even knew,” Jeongin continued, forcing the acidic words out of his mouth. 

“Are you really saying that they’d let you die just to get a rise out of us?” his captor scoffed.

“What I’m saying is you have no idea who you’re dealing with or what they’re capable of,” Jeongin snapped, glaring at her through his lashes. “I’m saying they’re going to win and they aren’t going to care what happens to me or any of you in the process.” The two women share a look that Jeongin isn’t quite able to decipher from his vantage point.

“We’ll see about that,” his captor said, opening the door and whisking herself and her entourage out, clicking the light off behind her. Jeongin shut his eyes and focused on moving air into his lungs. Chan better get here soon, Jeongin thought. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stand this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!  
> Also im sorry!!  
> please comment!!! im begging yall


	17. Seungmin: If We Never Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Seungmin join Stray Kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to If We Never Met by John K  
> Warnings: Blood, medically impossible feats and poor descriptions of medical procedures

**5 years ago**

Seungmin trudged across campus, shivering as the cold wind cut through his worn-out jacket. Most of the other students had already gone home for break which left campus feeling eerily abandoned. Pulling his thin jacket around his frigid body, he willed his stupid dorm to be closer.

There weren’t a lot of lights across campus as is, but this part of campus was particularly dark which is why when Seungmin heard a noise nearby, he froze. Images of ghosts and demons and ax murders flew around Seungmin’s imagination as his eyes darted around his immediate surroundings. When no monster jumped out of the darkness to rip his throat out or chop him into pieces, Seungmin bit his lip and continued forward more quickly. Fuck his dorm was far away from the library. 

Then he heard the sound again. Stopping, Seungmin strained his ears to try to hear it more clearly. It sounded like… crying?

“Hello?” Seungmin tentatively called out. There was no response, so Seungmin decided to follow the sound of the crying. This was a bad idea. There was nobody on campus to help him if something happened, and his phone was dead so he couldn't even call anybody. The image of a kidnapper luring him to his death comes to mind, but Seungmin can’t bring himself to ignore the cries. 

The cries led him to a small courtyard between the science buildings. The courtyard was decently lit with benches lining the clearing. On one of the benches in a darker corner of the courtyard, Seungmin saw a figure huddled up and shivering against the cold. 

“Hey,” Seungmin said gently, stopping a few feet in front of the person. “Are you okay?” The person was shaking a lot despite how tightly they were curled up on the bench. When they didn’t answer, Seungmin took another step forward. 

“Do you need help?” Seungmin asked softly. Seungmin thought back to all the times he’d been teased for being a bleeding heart. Maybe they were right, but Seungmin believed that everybody should have someone to care about them.

“Do you have a phone?” the person asked almost too quietly for Seungmin to hear. His voice sounded ragged from crying and there was a note of fear and helplessness in it that broke Seungmin’s heart.

“My phone is dead, but you can come back to my dorm with me and use it when it’s charged,” Seungmin said before he could think about what he was offering. Did he really just invite a complete stranger back to his dorm room? His only solace was that if he did just invite an ax murderer back to his dorm, at least he’d die with a clear conscience. 

When the stranger looked up at Seungmin, he had to suppress a shocked gasp at who beaten up he was. There was blood still flowing from his nose, one of his eyes was swollen shut, and his lip was split open. Someone really did a number on him.

“Really?” he asked. He sounded so pathetic that Seunmgin just wanted to bundle him up into a blanket and protect him from the world. Seungmin nodded and extended his hand to the stranger. He looked at Seungmin skeptically before accepting the gesture -- his hand was clammy and trembled in Seungmin’s.

“It’s a bit of a walk,” Seungmin said, laughing awkwardly as he led to way toward the dorm. The stranger nodded but didn’t say anything. They walked a little bit in silence before Seungmin spoke again.

“What’s your name?” he asked, glancing back at the boy following him. He was only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans. He walked with a limp and his arms were mottled in bruises. His knuckles were still oozing blood as he flexed them by his side. Seungmin turned away before he could ask something that he would regret.

“Hyunjin,” the boy said quietly, staring hard at the ground. “It’s not real smart to invite a stranger back to your place. I could be in a serial killer or, like, a gangster or something.” Seungmin glanced back at him again and shrugged.

“You seemed like you needed some help,” he said simply. The two lapsed back into silence until they finally reached Seungmin’s dorm. He silently led them up the four flights of stairs to his room. 

“You can sit there,” Seungmin said, gesturing to his side of the room. Hyunjin walked gingerly across the room and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed like he was going to break it while Seungmin went to his desk and plugged his phone in.

“It’s gonna take a minute to turn back on. It’s kind of old,” Seungmin apologized, watching the charging light at the top of his phone flash on. Turning back to Hyunjin, Seungmin almost winced when he saw how much worse he looked in the stark light of his dorm room. He was pale and his eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles under his eyes and not to mention how beaten up he was. There was also something else that Seungmin wasn’t able to put his finger on. He was trembling slightly despite the warmth of the room and his pupils were more dilated than would make sense in the light. Seungmin chose not to dwell too much on that.

“That’s fine,” Hyunjin whispered, still staring hard at the ground. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Seungmin waved him off. Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Can I help clean you up?” Seungmin wanted to jump out of his window. Hyunjin looked up at him skeptically. 

“I’m trying to get into nursing school, and I know some first aid!” Seungmin said backtracking. “You just look like you could you some help! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous!” Hyunjin just stared at him for a second.

“No, it’s okay,” Hyunjin said softly. Seungmin hurried off to get his first aid kit before he could say something else he regretted. When he came back with a damp rag and his first aid kit, Seungmin was surprised to see Hyunjin still sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed.

“You can relax a little bit,” Seungmin said, walking over to the bed. “I don’t bite,” he added with a laugh. Hyunjin huffed a tiny laugh and relaxed a little bit. Seungmin counted that as a win.

“What happened?” Seungmin asked curiously as he gently started to wipe the blood off of Hyunjin’s face. Hyunjin hissed as Seungmin wiped the blood from the more tender spots on his face. Seungmin tried to be more gentle as he wiped away the dirt and blood. 

“Ran into some old friends,” Hyunjin said bitterly.

“They don’t seem very friendly,” Seungmin remarked, frowning as the dark bruises became more visible as the grime was cleared away. Hyunjin barked a laugh but didn’t say anything else on the topic. Seungmin frowned as he moved to gently wiped the blood off of Hyunjin’s knuckles and wrapped them in bandages. It was obvious that Hyunjin knew how to defend himself, and Seungmin would hate to see the other guy. 

“Won’t your roommate be a little bit freaked out if he comes home and sees… me?” Hyunjin asked, staring at the bed across the room.

“My roommate already went home for break,” Seungmin said biting his lip as he focused on getting a particularly nasty gash on Hyunjin’s bicep clean.

“Why didn’t you?”

“What?” Seungmin looks up in surprise, meeting Hyunjin’s curious eyes.

“Why are you still here?”

“Oh,” Seungmin turned his attention back to the cut as he smoothed a bandage over it. “I don’t really have a home to go back to. The foster system kicks you out when you turn 18 if nobody decides they wanna keep you. Upside is the government pays my tuition so I get to stay here over break.” Seungmin winced internally at his big mouth. Why couldn’t he conduct himself in a social situation without shoving his  _ entire  _ foot into his mouth? Hyunjin didn’t say anything which didn’t do anything to help Seungmin’s anxiety.

Packing everything back into the first aid kit, Seungmin ran away from the horribly awkward situation to put it away. When he came back, Hyunjin was watching him curiously, but still wasn’t saying anything. His phone beeped from his desk, altering him that it had turned back on.

“You can make your call now,” Seungmin said softly, gesturing to his desk. “Just make sure you don’t unplug it.” Hyunjin watched him for a second longer before nodding and sliding off the bed. Seungmin watched him dial a number from memory. 

“Hey, Sungi-” Hyunjin started but was abruptly cut off by screaming on the other end of the phone. Seungmin muffled a snicker behind his hand as Hyunjin winced and pulled the phone away from his ear.

Deciding to give Hyunjin some privacy for his call, Seungmin stepped into the empty hallway. Leaning against the wall beside his door, Seungmin closed his eyes and listened to the eerie silence of the dorm. His thoughts inevitably drifted back to that entire social interaction with Hyunjin. How was it possible for him to be so socially inept? This was not at all how he saw his night going when the librarians kicked him out because the library closed. Groaning, Seungmin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

Hyunjin seemed nice enough. He seemed like he’d been through some hard times, but who hadn’t in this shithole of a town. Seungmin wondered idly who would beat him up so bad. What was Hyunjin mixed up in that left him so broken and alone on some bench on a university campus? 

Seungmin had noticed a tattoo that he recognized from when he’d been staying with a particularly shady foster family. He’d never asked about it, and he didn’t plan on asking now. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was a gang tattoo, but Seungmin didn’t want to confirm that line of thinking. His door cracked open, interrupting his train of thought, and Hyunjin stuck his head out.

“You didn’t have to leave. It’s your room,” he said, opening the door wider to invite Seungmin back in.

“I wanted to give you some privacy, and my phone wouldn’t have lasted off the charger” Seungmin said walking back into his room. Hyunjin hovered by the door awkwardly.

“Thanks for… everything I guess,” Hyunjin said, rubbing the back of his neck. “My friend is coming to pick me up now, so I’ll just go ahead and wait outside.” 

“You can wait in here,” Seungmin offered a little bit too quickly. Hyunjin looked at him for a second before nodding. Neither of them sat down, just standing around Seungmin’s dorm room, the air between them tense. 

“I don’t think I ever asked your name,” Hyunjin said, breaking the unbearable silence.

“Seungmin,” Seungmin said, latching on to any conversation starter. Before they could say anything else, Seugmin’s phone rang once abruptly causing Seungmin to jump.

“That’s my ride,” Hyunjin said then smiled softly at Seungmin. “Thanks again. I’ll see you around.” And with that, he was gone.

Sinking down onto his bed, Seungmin stared up at the ceiling. What was going on?

~~~

It was almost three months before he heard from Hyunjin again. It had gotten to the point that Seungmin had almost completely forgotten about that night, attributing it to the uncomfortable emptiness of campus and how late it had been that night. He was in the library studying for an upcoming exam when his phone flashed to life with an incoming call from a contact called ‘ANSWER ME.’

Confused, Seungmin shoved everything into his backpack and hurried out of the library, answering his phone just before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?” he asked.

“ _ I can’t believe that worked. _ ” Seungmin’s heart almost stopped when he heard Hyunjin’s weak voice on the other end of the line. 

“Oh my god,” Seungmin whispered.

“ _ Are you busy? Cause I could really use your help _ .”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean I can help. Where are you?” Seungmin rambled, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder, his legs twitching to get to where Hyunjin was so that he could help.

“ _ In your dorm. _ ” 

“Shit,” Seungmin hissed, taking off in the direction of the dorms. If he ran he could get there in about 7 minutes. “Okay, uuhh, I’ll be there soon. Just hang tight.” Ending the call, Seungmin pocketed his phone and ran faster. Did his roommate have a class right now? Seungmin really hoped he did, and that he wouldn’t come back while Hyunjin was still there or worse, while Hyunjin was there and Seungmin wasn’t. Explaining why a strange beaten up boy was hanging out in their dorm room in the middle of the day wasn’t something that Seungmin wanted to do today.

Seungmin managed to get to his room in only five minutes. Pushing open the door, he found Hyunjin sprawled across his floor with the window open and cold winter air blowing through it.

“Did you scale the building?!” Seungmin asked, stunned. Quickly shutting the door, he rushed to shut the window.

“Ha yeah,” Hyunjin huffs out. “Wasn’t too hard.” Seungmin looked down at him on the floor and winced when he saw all of the blood on his shirt. He silently thanked the people who built the dorms for using tile instead of carpet for floors. 

“Fucking hell, Hyunjin,” Seungmin said, rushing over to get his first aid kit and a cloth. When he came back, Seungmin almost lost his mind when he saw Hyunjin struggling to sit up. Rushing over, Seungmin gently pushed on his shoulder to stop him, and Hyunjin cooperatively laid back down.

“I’m going to take off your shirt,” Seungmin said, kneeling beside Hyunjin on the cold tile floor.

“That’s kind of forward of you,” Hyunjin laughed, wincing at the motion. Seungmin gave him an unimpressed look before pulling the shirt over Hyunjin’s head. Something caught Seungmin’s eye among the mottled bruises and numerous cuts that covered most of Hyunjin’s torso. 

“Oh my god! Were you stabbed?!” Seungmin exclaimed, frozen as he stared at the oozing wound in Hyunjin’s side.

“I think so,” Hyunjin breathed out. Seungmin snapped out of his initial shock and got to work. Pressing a clean towel to the stab wound, Seungmin winced at Hyunjin’s pained groan and instructed him to keep pressure on it. Turning his attention to the smaller, more manageable cuts, Seungmin cleaned and bandaged what he could. By the time he got to the stab wound in Hyunjin’s side, it had mostly stopped bleeding. Gently, Seungmin moved the towel off of the wound and studied the wound.

“I think this is going to need stitches,” Seungmin said nervously chewing his lip. Hyunjin blinked at him, still not moving.

“Can you do it, doc?” he joked weakly.

“I’m not premed,” Seungmin said automatically. Pulling out his laptop, Seungmin did a quick search for a suture tutorial and then went searching for his little sewing kit. When he came back, Hyunjin was staring dubiously at the video paused on his computer.

“Look! I’m not actually in nursing school yet and you were  _ stabbed _ !” Seungmin defended. Hyunjin just shrugged and dropped his head back onto the floor. Sitting down next to him, Seungmin threaded the sewing needle with shaking hands and then sterilized it with rubbing alcohol and a lighter. Pressing play on the video, Seungmin poised the needle to begin.

Seungmin tried not to flinch when the needle popped through the skin for the first time. Hyunjin laid still, his face screwed up in pain, as Seungmin stitched him up as best as he could. It was a lot more difficult than what Seungmin had thought it would be especially because he wasn’t using a sewing needle, not a proper suture needle. It took forever, but when Seungmin finally finished the shoddy suture job, he sat back and stared at it.

“Okay this next part is going to hurt,” Seungmin warned, unscrewing the top of a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Cause that first part was just a fucking walk in the pa-” Hyunjin cut himself off with a pained hiss as Seungmin poured the alcohol over the wound.

“I’m sorry!” Seungmin apologized, scrambling to find some sort of gauze or something to put over it.

“I don’t suppose that you have any painkillers or liquor in here,” Hyunjin joked weakly, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed tightly shut as Seungmin smoothed the bandage over the wound. 

“I have some ibuprofen I think,” Seungmin said apologetically.

“Forget it,” Hyunjin waved him off, taking deep breaths.

“What happened?” Seungmin asked, after a minute of just watching him try to breathe through the pain.

“My line of work isn’t the safest,” Hyunjin said, still breathless. Just as Seungmin was about to ask more questions, the sound of a key in the lock drew his attention.

“Fuck,” Seungmin hissed, scrambling to cover up as much of the blood as he could. “Can you move?” Hyunjin nodded, confused by the urgency in Seungmin’s voice. “Get on my bed. It’ll be easier to explain.” Seungmin ripped a blanket off of his bed and threw it over the first aid stuff on the floor as his roommate, Noah, pushed the door open. Shoving his hands -- still bloody from the stitches -- into his pockets, Seungmin smiled at Noah.

“What are you doing back? Don’t you have class?” Seungmin asked voice strained and a too big smile plastered on his face.

“It ended,” Noah replied slowly, looking back and forth between Seungmin and the still very shirtless Hyunjin who was lounging on his bed like he hadn’t just been given stitches on a dorm room floor. “Who’s this?” he asked stepping further into the room and raising an eyebrow at the blanket Seungmin had thrown at on the ground. 

“Uh…” Seungmin looked at Hyunjin for help, not sure how much he was allowed to tell his roommate.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he said, rolling his eyes at Seungmin’s strange behavior. Noah hummed and dropped his backpack on his bed.

“And you’re shirtless in Seungmin’s bed,” Noah said, looking between Seungmin and Hyunjin, a teasing smile spreading across his face. Seungmin was just glad he didn’t mention the massive bandage. “Seungmin you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” Seungmin had a sudden, overwhelming urge to jump out of the window.

“He’s not-”

“Whatever, I don’t actually care,” Noah interrupted him. “I have a 15-page research paper due tomorrow that I haven’t started yet, so I’ll let you guys get back to whatever you were doing before I came in.” Grabbing his backpack and a couple of energy drinks from his minifridge, Noah left. 

“He’s fun,” Hyunjin commented, clearly trying not to laugh at Seungmin’s mortified expression.

“I’m gonna clean this up,” Seungmin said, pointedly ignoring Hyunjin’s teasing laughs. 

~~~

It only took another week for Hyunjin to call again. This time Seungmin was in class when he called, so he didn’t answer. When he got back to his dorm, he found Hyunjin lounging on his bed, the window hanging open.

“You could at least close the window when you break into my room,” Seungmin mumbled. “It’s freezing in here.”

“You don’t mind that I broke in, just that I left the window open?” Hyunjin asked amused, watching as Seungmin dropped his backpack by the desk and pulled his window closed.

“Why would I mind that you broke in?” Seungmin asked. Hyunjin grinned at him and shrugged.

“Most people would mind.”

“Why are you here? You look healthy for once,” Seungmin remarked, dropping into his desk chair and facing Hyunjin.

“Wanted the doctor to look at my stitches,” Hyunjin said, grinning at him.

“I’m not a doctor. I’m not even a nurse yet,” Seungmin sighed. He stood up and walked over to where Hyunjin was lounging. Peeking under the edge of Hyunjin’s shirt, Seungmin looked at the stitches before pulling to shirt back into place.

“They look fine,” Seungmin said. Before he could walk away, Hyunjin grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Thank you, Seungmin,” he said, sincerity heavy in his voice. Seungmin stared at him with wide eyes before jerked his head up and down.

“Don’t mention it,” he forced out. The air between them was heavy with something that Seungmin couldn't identify. Before Seungmin could process what was happening, Hyunjin was tugging him down and pressing their lips together. Seungmin was reeling, but his body acted without his brain’s permission and started to kiss Hyunjin back. It was a short kiss and when Hyunjin broke the kiss, he stood and walked briskly to the window.

“I should go. I’ll see you around.” And with that, Hyunjin opened the window and disappeared down the building. Seungmin numbly walked over to the window and shut it before sinking to the ground and pressing a hand over his eyes.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Seungmin?” he whispered to the empty room.

~~~

After the kiss, Seungmin started seeing Hyunjin at least once a week. They never mentioned the kiss, but he would come over and they would hang out. Sometimes they would sit around talking, Hyunjin regaling Seungmin with the mischief that he and his roommates caused to, and Seungmin complaining about his classes. Sometimes Hyunjin would rope Seungmin into games when he was bored. Sometimes they would just sit together while Seungmin studied for his exams. Seungmin came to enjoy having Hyunjin around.

A couple of months into this new arrangement, Seungmin came back to his dorm one day to find Hyunjin bowed over another person as if in prayer. The other person was lying motionless in Seungmin’s bed.

“Hyunjin?” Seungmin asked tentatively as he stepped into the room and shut the door.

“Help him,” Hyunjin whimpered, looking up at Seungmin. The helplessness in Hyunjin’s voice pulled at something in Seungmin’s heart. Dropping his backpack, Seungmin rushed over to his bed. The boy in his bed was lying motionless and breathing shallowly.

“What happened?” Seungmin asked, grabbing the first aid kit that he now kept easily accessible by his bed.

“Would you believe me if I said he was mugged?” Hyunjin joked weakly.

“No, but I’ll take it,” Seungmin said, starting to examine the boy on the bed. “Who is this?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin said, stepping back to lean against Seungmin’s desk so Seungmin had room to work. Seungmin nodded and did his best to find all of the open wounds he could and clean and dress them. He then examined Jisung’s head, checking for concussions, something that he googled how to do after the second time Hyunjin showed up on the verge of consciousness. When he didn’t find any, he sat back and chewed his lip in thought as he studied Jisung. There wasn’t any real reason he should unconscious after such minor injuries and no apparent head wound. 

Grabbing Jisung’s wrist, Seungmin felt around for a pulse. When he found it, it felt way too weak. Using his phone’s flashlight, Seungmin opened Jisung’s eyes and shined the light in them. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for, it just felt like something he should do.

“Why’s he unconscious?” Seungmin asked looking over at Hyunjin.

“He was drugged,” Hyunjin said, chewing his lip.

“Why didn’t you lead with that?!” Seungmin shrieked. He should have some activated charcoal pills in his first aid kit. Or at least, he hoped he did.

“I don’t know!” Hyunjin shouted back, more scared than anything. Relief flooded Seungmin when he found the activated charcoal pills he stole back when he was going through a phase in high school. Opening Jisung’s mouth, Seungmin dropped a couple in with some water to coax his muscles to swallow them.

“I have no idea if that will work,” Seungmin admitted, turning to Hyunjin. “I think you should take him to the hospital.” Hyunjin stared at Jisung before nodding.

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” he said quietly. “Can you come with?” Seungmin blinked, shocked that Hyunjin had asked him to come with, but nodding nonetheless. Hyunjin took a deep breath and stood to picked Jisung up. Together, they made their way to the hospital.

~~~

After the Jisung incident, Seungmin’s entirely unaddressed feelings toward Hyunjin grew stronger. They still never talked about the kiss and nothing like that happened again, but Hyunin was over almost every day. Seungmin had a new roommate now who was almost never around, which suited him just fine.

Hyunjin still occasionally showed up when he needed to be patched up, which left a funny, uneasy feeling in Seungmin’s stomach. He didn’t like that Hyunjin was putting himself into so much danger. Seungmin became the medic on standby for Hyunjin’s friends which meant that he met and became friends with most of them.

The weather had started getting colder again and most of the students were talking about going home over break. Seungmin wasn’t a huge fan of this time of year. He didn’t like the cold, and he didn’t have a family to go celebrate the holidays with. Not to mention the stress of exams on top of everything else. 

Seungmin was in the library late trying his best to study. Hyunjin hadn’t texted him back all day, which wasn’t out of the ordinary but was a little disappointing. Seungmin’s attention kept wandering back to his silent phone. After what felt like an eternity of fruitless study, one of the librarians came and told him that the library was closing up for the night. Packing up all of his books, Seungmin blearily left the library. 

The trek across campus was frigid and reminded Seungmin of this time last year, the first time he met Hyunjin. Seungmin walked as quickly as he could toward his dorm. His fingers felt numb as he tried to unlock his room, fumbling the key a couple of times. By the time he got the door pushed open, he was ready to collapse into his bed for the next 12 hours.

Pushing open the door and flipping on the lights, Seungmin almost screamed when he saw someone asleep in his bed. No, not asleep, Hyunjin was unconscious in his bed. Dropping his bag, Seungmin ran over to his bed.

“Jinnie,” Seunmgin asked softly. When he got no response, he tried again more forcefully, “Hyunjin!” Seungmin’s knees felt like they could give out as he felt around Hyunjin’s wrist for a pulse. A jolt went through Seungmin’s entire body when he felt the weak heartbeat.

“Shit shit shit shit,” Seungmin whispered as he ran to first aid kit which suddenly felt very lacking for the situation. Coming back, Seungmin started examining Hyunjin for wounds.

“Oh, that’s…” Seungmin froze staring at the bloody patch of his shirt. “That’s a lot of blood. Oh my god.” So that would explain the whole… unconscious thing. Seungmin started patching Hyunjin up to the best of his ability. His fingers worked swiftly, practiced ease making everything go a little bit faster. Seungmin couldn’t decide if that was fortunate or if it was sad that he had done this so many times already. When he finished, he stood back and stared down at Hyunjin and his messy stitches.

“Alright, asshole,” Seungmin whispered. “If you don’t wake up after all of this...” Seungmin trailed off, tears welling in his eyes. “I don’t know what I’ll do.” Seungmin sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Hyunjin’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“You’re the only thing close to a family I’ve ever had, and if you crawled your bleeding ass up a building only to die in my bed, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find another family again.” Seungmin knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t help it. Tears were streaming down his face freely at this point.

“I love you, Hyunjin,” he whispered so softly that he almost couldn’t hear himself. Seungmin buried his face into Hyunjin’s shoulder. “I love you so much, you ass. Please don’t die on me.” Suddenly, Hyunjin’s fingers tightened around his, squeezing gently. 

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a well-placed hit and a little blood loss to kill me, doc,” Hyunjin whispered hoarsely. 

“Hyunjin!” Seungmin gasped, jerking upright to stare down at him. “You’re okay! I would hug you but…” Seungmin gestured vaguely at the bandaged wound on his side with a broken laugh. Hyunjin just grinned at him before grabbing him and pulling him into a hug.

It didn’t take much convincing for Seungmin to talk Hyunjin into resting in his dorm for the night. It helped that Hyunjin couldn’t really stand up, much less climb down a building. 

The next morning, Seungmin made the two of them instant coffee and sat around waiting for him to wake up. He watched Hyunjin sleep for a while, his thoughts running around his brain in circles. Last night had been so stressful. Everything about this was so stressful. Seungmin wasn’t sure if he was able to keep living like this, just watching Hyunjin constantly throwing himself at danger and coming to him on the verge of death. After a while, Seungmin sat down at his desk to study and try to distract himself from these thoughts.

Hyunjin woke up while Seungmin was in the middle of writing some bullshit essay for some bullshit class that he didn’t care about. Hyunjin groaned, effectively drawing Seungmin’s attention from the gibberish currently occupying his screen. 

“How are you feeling?” Seungmin asked, turning to look at Hyunjin whose face was currently buried in a pillow.

“Fucking tired and my side hurts,” he groaned. After a minute he flipped over and grinned at Seungmin. “But I spent the night with a cute guy last night, so it’s not all bad.” Seungmin chuckled at the joke.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” Seungmin said, wringing his hands. Hyunjin hummed, finding the coffee that Seungmin left for him. “So I think I should join you and your gang like for real,” Seungmin said in one breath, not looking up at Hyunjin. 

“Absolutely not,” Hyunjin shot down immediately, taking a sip from the mug. Seungmin’s eyes snapped up to look at him.

“What?! Why not?!”

“You’re so…” Hyunjin looked up at him and frowned. “Squishy. Innocent. Whatever word you want to use, this isn’t the life for you.”

“I think that’s for me to decide,” Seungmin said petulantly, crossing his arms like a child.

“No that’s for me to decide 'cause I'm the only person here who’s _actually_ a part of a gang,” Hyunjin said, setting down the mug to level him with a blank look. “Look, Seungmin, movies and books and TV shows and whatever else make it out to be something glamorous, but it isn’t. It’s fucking awful. Everything we do is morally fucking awful, not grey, not questionable, it's despicable. We are not good people, but you’re a good person. Not to mention all the people who are constantly shooting or stabbing or punching or whatever. Or the fucking cops, God I hate the fucking cops-”

“Okay, I get it,” Seungmin cut him off. “I get it. It’s terrible, and you think I’m just some dumb goody two shoes who can’t handle this. I’ve thought about all of that, Hyunjin, but you dragged me into this when you climbed the building into my dorm room needing to be stitched back together. I can’t keep doing this, Hyunjin.”

“Doing what?”

“Watching you almost die, jackass!” Seungmin screamed. Hyunjin stared at him silently, picking up his coffee and taking another sip.

“Was what you said last night true?” He finally asked. Seungmin just stared at him in confusion. “About how I’m the closest thing you’ve ever had to a family,” Hyunjin clarified. Seungmin blushed darkly and looked down at his lap.

“You heard all of that?” Seungmin whispered. Hyunjin nodded. “Yes, you’re the closest thing to a family I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll talk to Chan about it.” Seungmin’s head whipped up to look at him, hope written across his face. Hyunjin laughed at the look on his face. “I didn’t say you could join, I just said that I’d talk to Chan.” Seungmin flew across the room before he could finish, grabbing Hyunjin’s face and kissing him hard on the lips.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Hyunjin blinked at him shocked before grabbing Seungmin’s face and pulling him back down into another kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter!!!  
> just a couple more left!!  
> kudos and comments make my entire life bearable i love you all!!! <3


	18. I'll Keep You Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to I'll Keep You Safe by Sleeping at Last  
> Warnings: questionable mental states

**Present Day**

Jeongin wasn’t sure how long they’d left him alone. The last time anybody was when they were asking about the disturbances in their system which had to have been least a day ago. They’d left Jeongin in a pitch-black, soundproof room, and Jeongin wasn’t certain that this was preferable to the torture.

He still couldn’t breathe out of his nose, but at least it had stopped freely bleeding down his face. His back and shoulders ached from the strain of leaning forward in the chair with his hands bound behind him. They hadn’t given him any food or water in the entire time that he’d been here.

“Jeongin,” the breathy voice that had been talking to him for the past couple hours said. The voice sounded kind of like Woojin, but Jeongin knew it couldn’t be him. Jeongin wasn’t sure if his eyes were closed or open, but he attempted to squeeze them shut and shake his head to dispel the voice. It only succeeded in making him dizzy and nauseous.

“You’re a hallucination,” Jeongin whispered, his quiet, scratchy voice louder than a gunshot in the darkness.

“You keep saying that,” the voice said. “What’s so wrong with talking to a hallucination?” Jeongin squeezed his eyes again, willing the nausea and spinning to stop. It was kind of funny that the entire world could be spinning around him when he couldn’t even see anything; maybe it was the fumes.

“I’m not crazy,” Jeongin said. Fuck, he was tired.

“You don’t have to be crazy to talk to me, kid,” the voice said. The darkness seemed to get blearier -- if darkness could even be bleary. “Don’t you dare pass out on me, Jeongin. You can’t pass out on me.”

“What do you know?” Jeongin breathed. Speaking hurt. Everything hurt. God, how much longer would he be able to hold on like this? “You’re literally my own fucking delusion. What do you know?”

“I know you need to hold out until they get here,” the voice said. It had a different quality now. It was less concrete; it sounded like it was circling his head like an annoying bee.

“How much longer will that be?” Jeongin sobbed out. His head throbbed. His body was shaking. How long had he been shaking for?

“Not much longer, kiddo,” the voice reassured him. Jeongin could almost feel Woojin’s comforting arms pulling him into a warm hug. Hot tears stung his eyes and burned as they slid down his face. Jeongin almost laughed -- he thought he’d run out of tears a long time ago.

“Just stay with me, kid,” the voice said, but it was slipping away. Or maybe Jeongin was slipping away as he fell deeper into the crushing darkness that surrounded him. The darkness felt warm as Jeongin let himself slip away.

~~~

Everybody had gathered in the living room for a briefing on the rescue mission, and everybody looked awful. The dark circles under Chan’s eyes seemed even darker than normal; he looked almost ghostly. It looked like the only thing that was keeping him from falling over was Woojin’s arm wrapped around his waist. Hyunjin was lying on the couch drifting between sleep and wakefulness with his head pillowed in Seungmin’s lap and his legs resting in Jisung’s. Seungmin looked like a rubber band about to snap, and Jisung looked like one wrong word would trigger a full breakdown. Changbin had his head resting on Minho’s shoulder and his arms wrapped loosely around his middle looking like he was about to pass out from exhaustion. Felix sat cross-legged in the armchair, chin resting in his palm as he looked at his friends.

“Okay,” Chan stated, stepping forward, “I guess we should get this started.” He seemed unsteady, but Felix couldn’t decide if physically or mentally unsteadiness was predominant. Chan took a moment to collect himself, rubbing a hand over his scraggly, unshaven face.

Everybody listened intently as he went through the plan. It was similar to the original infiltration plan with some modifications to account for The Family already knowing they were coming and to get Jeongin out. It seemed simple enough, get in without detection, get Jeongin, get out. If time allowed, burn as much of the compound as possible to wipe out whatever plan or intel they had on Stray Kids. If they couldn’t burn the compound for whatever reason, just get Jeongin and get out. Jeongin’s safety was priority number one.

“When do we go?” Seungmin asked, looking ready to just stand up and walk onto the farm with nothing but his burning anger. It seemed like the only thing keeping him from doing exactly that is the fact that Hyunjin had once again fallen asleep on him.

“As soon as the sun goes down,” Chan said, running a hand through his hair. “We can’t go any earlier than that without risking getting caught immediately.” Seungmin stared at Chan is shock.

“Are you seriously suggesting we leave him there  _ longer _ ?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Felix's fingers twitched instinctively in the direction of his knives, but he kept still as he watched Seungmin and Chan. Chan tensed at Seungmin’s words, face hardening into the face he usually reserved for interrogations and dealings -- his work face. Seungmin had leveled Chan with a dangerous look, daring Chan to argue back.

“Everybody’s nerves are frayed,” Woojin said, stepping between the two of them. “Seungmin, we can’t go during the daytime if we want even a fighting chance of getting Jeongin back. Nothing’s gonna happen to him in the next couple hours that hasn’t already, but if they see us coming, we can’t stop them from just offing him just to spite us.” Seungmin glared hard at Woojin but eventually deflated, his head falling forward dejectedly. 

“I’m just worried about him,” Seungmin whispered, body slumped over in defeat. Felix squinted at him, there was something about his body language that was off, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. While Felix was proud of his ability to detect even minute body language, he wasn’t always the greatest and figuring meaning from it.

“We all are,” Woojin said gently. “I think we should rest before tonight. It won’t help anybody if none of us can fight because we are too exhausted.” Everybody nodded and mumbled agreements before slowly filtering out of the room. Woojin led Chan out first, Chan’s face still the steely, expressionless face of the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in the area. Minho and Changbin left next, Minho carrying Changbin away as he dozed on Minho’s shoulder. 

“Jisung,” Seungmin said quietly, gently brushing Hyunjin’s hair out of his sleeping face, “will you take him to bed?” Jisung looked at Seungmin in confusion before nodding.

“Wh-”

“I just need a minute,” Seungmin snapped, he looked up at Jisung with an expression that Felix couldn’t quite decipher. Jisung nodded and roused Hyunjin to lead him back to his room. Felix sat still, watching Seungmin to try and figure out what was off about how he was acting.

“God!” Seungmin’s annoyed exclamation broke the prolonged silence as he turned to look at Felix. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that staring at people is rude.”

“You’re acting weird,” Felix said with a dismissive shrug. Seungmin looked back down at his lap. Felix kept staring at him, intent on figuring out what was different. 

“Will you help me?” Seungmin finally asked. Felix furrowed his brow in confusion but didn’t say anything, silently prompting Seungmin to continue. “Help me get him now?” Oh, so that’s why Seungmin was acting so weird. Not only is he being reckless, he going directly against Chan’s orders.

“Do you have a plan?” Felix asked, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. It didn’t seem like he was likely to talk Seungmin out of this, so he might as well go along with it. If Seungmin was going to go regardless of what he said, he would need backup.

“Not really,” Seungmin confessed. He looked up at Felix with a pleading look.

“Alright,” Felix said with another shrug. “Lemme get my guns.” Standing up, he left Seungmin alone in the living room.

~~~

Jisung had taken Hyunjin back to his and Felix’s room where he was now sleeping restlessly on the bed. He should mostly be through the withdrawal symptoms, but if his last detox is anything to go by, he’ll probably be pretty wiped for a couple more days. Jisung sat in the desk chair, cotton candy smoke filling his lungs while he watched Hyunjin sleep.

Jisung looked up when the door pushed open and watched Felix walk into the room, making his way to the closet. He unlocked his weapon safe and started to sort through it.

“What are you doing?” Jisung asked, letting out a lungful of smoke along with the words. “Chan said we aren’t going to go until later tonight.” Felix pulled a gun out of the safe and checked the magazine before looking up at Jisung as he clicked it back into place.

“Seungmin wants to go now,” he said, tucking the gun into his waistband. Jisung stared at him and then shook his head roughly like that would erase the words that Felix just said to him. Unfortunately, his brain wasn’t an etch-a-sketch.

“Seungmin wants to go  _ now _ ?” he asked, too stunned to formulate new thoughts. Felix nodded and turned to head toward the door. “And you’re just going to go with him?!” Felix stopped and looked back at Jisung, tilting his head to the side to study Jisung. He resisted the urge to squirm, Felix scrutiny always made Jisung a little uncomfortable despite how comfortable he was around him.

“He’s going to go either way,” Felix said as if it were obvious. “I might as well go with him so that he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“This is stupid!” Jisung whispered-shouted, keeping his voice down so that he wouldn’t wake Hyunjin up. Felix just shrugged and started back for the door. “Wait! Let me go talk to him.” Felix glanced back at Jisung, an eyebrow raised.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall beside the door. Motherfucker had the audacity to look hot while Jisung was seconds away from a goddamn breakdown because of Seungmin’s arrant stupidity in addition to everything else.

“A better idea than you two idiots trying to raid the farm alone in broad daylight,” Jisung said, dropping his mod on the desk and walking toward the door. “Stay in here with him.” Felix nodded and Jisung felt his stare on him until the door was shut behind him.

“Are you a fucking idiot?!” he hissed as soon as he stepped into the living room. Seungmin was still just sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees and his head buried in his hands. “Were you seriously gonna try and get into the farm right now?! That’s the dumbest...” Jisung’s tirade trailed off as he noticed Seungmin’s shoulders trembling. Was he crying? Jisung walked over and sat down next to him on the couch, placing a hand on his back.

“I don’t know, Jisung,” Seungmin whispered around his soft cries. “I’m so worried about both Hyunjin and Jeongin, and I just… If I can get Jeongin back, it’ll be okay. If I can get him back-” a sob cut him off and Jisung pulled him against his chest, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

“None of this is your fault and it is not your responsibility to do some sort of stupid noble sacrifice bullshit to try and rescue Jeongin,” Jisung said when Seungmin had calmed down a little bit. “We are all here and we all want to get him back. Just try to relax for a couple of hours, and then we’ll get him. They won’t do anything worse to him in the next few hours.”

“I guess you’re right,” Seungmin sniffed, sitting back to wipe the tears off of his face. “Thank you, Jisung.”

“Come on,” Jisung said, standing up. “Your boyfriend is currently asleep in my bed and I’m sure he’d love if you were there, too.” Seungmin nodded and followed Jisung back to his room.

~~~

Jeongin was pretty sure he was dead. No, death was probably nicer than this hell he was currently living through. He felt too weak to keep his head up anymore, and his throat was so dry that breathing hurt. His arms throbbed while also being completely numb which Jeongin was convinced was the cruel trick of some God somewhere. Sweat soaked through his clothes and chilled him, making him tremble harder. Not to mention this insufferable fucking hallucination that wouldn’t leave him alone.

“You’re strong, kid. Just hold on a little bit longer,” the voice said. Every time it spoke, Jeongin was overcome with dizziness and nausea. The voice floated around him in circles like it was mocking him for being stationary. At least, Jeongin figured he was still stationary. He couldn’t tell anymore, his head was spinning so much.

He didn’t think that he’d die like this, completely alone with only a ghost for company. Jeongin kept getting flashes of memories, his life since meeting Woojin and the others over the past few years. Sometimes he could escape into these memories and leave his current suffering for just a little bit, but he always ended up back here alone.

“It won’t be much longer now,” the voice said nearly causing Jeongin to pass out. It had been saying that for so long, but Jeongin wasn’t sure how true it was anymore. Would he even still be alive when they finally came for him? Fuck, he hoped so. 

Chan and Woojin wanted him to graduate high school, but he couldn’t do that if he died here. At least he wouldn’t be able to fail out if he died, Jeongin thought bitterly. 

Jeongin’s thoughts wandered to Hyunjin and Seungmin. He hoped they were okay. He hoped that if he died, they’d be able to find happiness again.

An alarm light started flashing but Jeongin couldn’t tell if it was in the room with him or in his head. Were his eyes open or closed? Was this the light that people talked about when they died? Shit, that light was bright.

“I told you it wouldn’t be much longer,” the voice said. If it had a face or body, Jeongin was sure it would be grinning smugly. The room was still silent, the soundproof door doing its job almost too well. The soundless alarm flashed over and over, making Jeongin’s head spin and his eyes burn

‘You better be right, you annoying hallucination,’ he thought to himself, throat too dry to speak.

~~~

Alarms wailed around him as Woojin snuck through the hallways, keeping to the shadows as best as he could. The hallway was pretty empty, most people had run out to where Jisung and Felix were orchestrating the distraction in the form of a massive shootout to allow Chan and Woojin to search the buildings.

“Building 9 cleared,” Chan’s voice crackled over the com. “Torching it now.” Woojin could almost see Seungmin’s distressed face and hear his ‘Don’t torch anything until you actually find Jeongin’ speech despite them having forbidden him from using the mic except in emergencies. They left him home with Changbin and Minho to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid.

Woojin moved quickly, pushing open every door he came across and checking every inch of the building that was laid out in the blueprints that Changbin had found. So far, he and Chan had searched about 3 buildings and hadn’t found any sign of him. 

“Moving on to building 13,” Chan said over the com. Woojin nodded to himself and kept creeping through the building he was searching. With any luck, they’d find Jeongin soon and could get the hell out of here.

“I heard someone over here,” a voice around the corner said. Woojin’s eyes widened when he heard the sound of running coming toward him. Maybe he could use this to his advantage, Woojin thought.

Pressing himself against the wall beside the corner, Woojin waited for whoever it was to round it. As soon as they came into view, Woojin grabbed one of them and pressed a knife to their throat. It was two kids, definitely not older than Jeongin, a girl and a boy. Woojin had managed to grab the boy who was currently rigid and trembling in his arms. It took every ounce of willpower for Woojin to not let him go -- he reminded him too much of Jeongin. Woojin hated hurting kids.

“Who else is here?” he hissed at the girl, pressing the knife harder into the boy's throat. The girl looked petrified -- she probably wasn’t expecting to see Woojin sneaking around their building.

“N-nobody,” she stammered out, lifting her hands in surrender. “It’s just us! Everybody else went to respond to the disturbance in the courtyard!” Woojin glared at her darkly but decided that she was telling the truth.

“What’re your names?” he asked the girl, knife still pressed to the boy's neck so droplets of blood dripped.

“Now is not the time to be making friends, Woojin!” Jisung’s voice cracked over his com. Ignoring him, Woojin gave his full attention to the girl. 

“E-Emile and that’s Aidan,” she said, staring at him with wide eyes.

“What did she say her name is?” Chan asked suddenly over the com.

“Do you keep prisoners in this building, Emile?” Woojin asked harshly. He heard Chan saying something over the com, but chose not to listen to him. Emile nodded jerkily, gesturing vaguely behind her.

“There’s a soundproof closet that way,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anyone in it right now, but The Elders don’t tell us much.”

“Take me to it,” he instructed coldly. He had no intention of hurting these kids, but he couldn’t just let them go. She nodded jerkily and scurried off to lead the way. Glancing over his shoulder just to make sure nobody had snuck up on them, Woojin shoved the boy and began to follow Emile to this secret, soundproof room.

She led him down a series of hallways until she stopped in front of a door that looked like a normal storage closet, though Woojin supposed that was probably the point. With trembling fingers, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, the light from the hallway illuminated the room and Woojin had to stop himself from gasping when he saw Jeongin slumped in a chair in the middle of the room. He was bloody and beaten with a cloth tied around his head dangling loosely in front of his face. His breathing was labored and his entire body was drenched.

“Untie him,” Woojin instructed Emile who nodded and ran into the room, untying the ropes around Jeongin’s legs and arms. He nearly fell out of the chair when Emile untied his arms, but she caught him before he could crash to the ground. Releasing the boy, Woojin ran into the room and knelt in front of Jeongin.

“You and Aidan get out of here before I change my mind about killing you,” he said, turning to glare at her. It was difficult to keep up the “cruel gangster” front when Jeongin was right in front of him, and all he wanted to do was make sure he was okay. She nodded again and ran out, grabbing Aidan’s arm as she ran past.

“Jeongin?” Woojin called gently, one hand on his shoulder to keep him upright and the other on his cheek to raise his head.

“Not… real…” Jeongin croaked out. His eyes were hazy like he was barely conscious.

“I’m real, kiddo,” Woojin soothed. Resting Jeongin’s head against his shoulder, Woojin untied the cloth from his face and cringed when he saw the state he was in under it. The bottom half of his face was completely covered in blood and his nose was a mangled mess. His lips were chapped and his breaths were shallow and labored.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Woojin said, wrapping his arm under Jeongin’s armpits. Hoisting Jeongin out of the chair was easier than Woojin had thought it would be because of how light Jeongin had become -- granted he wasn’t very heavy to begin with, but he had lost whatever weight he used to have. Turning around, Woojin stopped cold in his tracks.

“I see you found the boy,” the woman standing in the doorway said. Emile and Aidan stood behind her grinning smugly at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no!!  
> Thank you all for reading!  
> Comments and kudos make my cold winter days warm!! <3


	19. Woojin: We Could Be Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Woojin join Stray Kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Heroes (we could be) by Alesso  
> Warnings: Mentioned recreational drug use, bad flirting

**5 years ago**

Woojin’s life was boring. Not in a fun sort of life-is-boring-but-one-day-it-might-not-be way. No, his life was boring in a working-dead-end-jobs-barely-getting-by-until-he-one-day-dies way. Woojin accepted this fact the day he graduated high school and all of his friends went off to college, and he had to go get a minimum wage job so that he could survive. Sometimes he would see his old friends getting up to young people things at college while he was stuck behind the register of some backwoods convenience store. He was really living the dream.

Woojin was spending his Friday night alone in the convenience store living vicariously through all of the twenty-somethings that wander in drunk or high looking for booze or snacks. Woojin sighed glancing at his dark phone; it’s not like he has any friends to go out with anyway. Turning back to the tabloid that he was reading, Woojin tried to imagine himself anywhere but here. 

The jingle of the bell above the door drew his attention away from the celebrity exploits that he didn’t care about and to the customer stumbling through the door. The man looked disheveled and couldn’t seem to focus his gaze on one thing for more than a couple seconds. Woojin frowned as he stumbled up to the counter, an overwhelming waft of marijuana following him.

“How can I help you, sir?” Woojin asked, setting the magazine aside. The guy leaned heavily on the counter. He looked like he was  _ trying  _ to act drunk, but the bloodshot eyes and the smell of weed made it clear that he was, in fact, very high. From the looks of him, Woojin doubted he’d had any liquor at all that night.

“I was wonderin’ if I could get a pack of smokes,” the guy asked. He was forcibly slurring his words but wasn’t doing a very good job. Woojin narrowed his eyes at the man, something felt off about this situation.

“Can I see some ID?” Woojin asked, trying to pinpoint what felt off. The guy nodded and pulled out his wallet, slapping his ID onto the counter. It looked real though, truth be told, Woojin didn’t really care about the realness IDs having sold alcohol and cigarettes to plenty of kids underage with some of the shittiest fakes he’d ever seen. When Woojin slid the ID back to the guy, he figured out what was off.

At the back of the store, two kids that must have slipped in when Mr. High-Off-His-Ass came in were currently pulling as much off the shelves as they could. Once those two finished, this guy would probably turn a gun on Woojin. He had to commend them though, it was a well orchestrated robbery. Woojin internally debated how to navigate the situation.

“I can’t sell to you,” Woojin finally decided on. “ID looks pretty fake,” Woojin explained, gesturing to the definitely real ID between them. The guy looked so confused you completely abandoned the fake drunk thing.

“This is definitely my real ID,” he said, picking it up to look at it more closely. Woojin chose not to think about the fact that claiming a real ID as a fake was technically illegal. Whatever, it was throwing the guy off which is all that mattered.

“I know a fake when I see one, buddy,” Woojin said, still keeping half an eye on the two at the back of the store in case they tried to pull anything else. “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

“Listen,” the stranger said, setting the ID back on the counter. “I promise you this is my real, government-issued ID.”

“Oh, so you’re a real upstanding citizen, are you?” Woojin asked, looking at the guy's bloodshot eyes. “You reek of weed and your little friends are currently robbing me. Are you gonna hold me at gunpoint to get the cash from the register next?” Woojin leaned across the counter on his elbows so that he could get as close as he could to the other guy before whispering, “You can try, but there ain’t any cash in there.” Leaning back, Woojin crossed his arms and leveled the guy with an unimpressed look. He looked stunned like he either couldn’t believe that Woojin had caught on to them or like he couldn’t believe that Woojin was ballsy enough to say what he just did.

“You gonna call the cops?” the guy asked. Woojin snorted.

“Why would I do that?” he asked. If the guy was confused before, he looked absolutely dumbfounded now. “Look, you haven’t caused any real damage, and I don’t really wanna deal with them right now. Cops are bad for business. Can’t say thieves are any better, but I have a reputation to maintain.” The guy nodded and backed away from the counter.

“Before I go,” he said after making some sort of signal to the other two who split as soon as they saw it. “Can I get your number?” Woojin couldn’t help the laugh that he let out.

“Not a chance,” Woojin said, picking up his magazine. “I’m not really into the blond, dumb, criminal types.”

“We’ll see about that,” the guys said before leaving the store after his friends. Well, this night certainly got more interesting. 

~~~

Woojin figured his boss was punishing him or something because he’d been given the weekend graveyard shift for a month, but this only worked in Mr. Dumb’s favor because, true to his word, Dumb, Blond, and Illegal was back not even a day later. 

The bell above the door rang out as it swung open and Woojin set down his magazine to greet the customer. When he looked up, he couldn’t help the little smirk that stretched across his face when he saw who it was. The guy didn’t look high today, and he wasn’t pretending to be drunk either. Interesting change of pace.

“Should I be expecting another robbery?” Woojin asked, crossing his arms as the guy walked up to the counter.

“Shit! I knew I was forgetting something! Give me like an hour and I’ll be right back with my gun, don’t you worry!” the guy said, even going as far as to smack his head for comedic effect. Woojin had to admit, this guy was probably the most interesting thing that has happened to him since he took this goddamn job. 

“Seems like a pretty amateur move for somebody good enough to put together that robbery I saw yesterday,” Woojin commented, looking the guy up and down. He wasn’t bad looking. 

“What can I say,” the guy said with what Woojin could only assume was supposed to be a flirtatious grin, “I was really eager to see you again.” Woojin bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his grin.

“I have a gun behind the counter.”

“Are you offering to give me a gun?”

“I also have a panic button that calls the police directly.”

“I thought you had a reputation to maintain?”

“You’re either the bravest person or the dumbest criminal I’ve ever met,” Woojin said, unable to hold back his laughter any longer. The guy’s grin became a little more genuine when he heard Woojin’s laugh.

“Can I be both?” The guy was propped on the counter on his elbows now, head resting on his hands. Woojin scoffed at him.

“Is there anything that you want to buy?” Woojin asked finally.

“How much would your number cost?” the guy asked, blinking at Woojin innocently.

“Since you were trying to rob  _ this  _ place, definitely more than you can afford,” Woojin said, crossing his arms.

“How about a name, or should I just call you hot cashier?”

“You can call me Woojin,” Woojin said laughing.

“Then you can call me Chan,” Dumb, Blond, and Illegal said, grinning widely at Woojin.

“I think I’ll stick with dumbass, but thanks anyway. Now if you’re not planning on buying something, I’m gonna have to suggest you leave,” Woojin said, raising a challenging eyebrow at Chan.

“Pack of smokes?” Chan asked, sliding his ID across the counter. “Unless my ID is still too fake for your liking.”

“Pack of smokes,” Woojin said, not bothering to look at the ID. “6.50 please.” Chan snatched up the pack and dropped the exact change on the counter.

“I’ll see you around, Woojin,” he said, backing up toward the door.

“I really hope you don’t,” Woojin replied picking up his tabloid again as Chan turned and left. He never actually started reading though, grinning after Chan as he disappeared into the night.

~~~

Chan didn’t come in again for the next week. And yeah, maybe Woojin hoped it was Chan every time the bell above the door rang, sue him the guy was fun to talk to, but it was never him. After a week, Woojin was convinced that Chan probably wasn’t going to come in again and that would be his only taste of something other than the soul-crushing monotony that was the rest of his life.

Saturday night rolled around and Woojin was once again spending his time reading about celebrity drama and imagining what his life would be like if he could do the things they did. It was almost 2 am and Woojin had about 4 hours left of his shift. Sighing, Woojin tossed aside the magazine and leaned over to rest his head on the counter. Why didn’t he have any friends?

The sound of sirens snapped him out of his self-loathing spiral. It was strange to hear sirens in this part of town and even stranger for them to be so close that their lights flood the store. Woojin craned his neck to try to figure out what the hell was happening, but he didn’t have to try very hard because at that moment the door burst open and none other than Mr. Dumbass himself sprinted into the store.

“Hey hottie, mind if I come back there for a while?” he asked breathlessly. Glancing out the glass front of the store, Woojin nodded and stepped aside for Chan to jump the counter and crouch down out of sight. Before Woojin had a chance to ask what the fuck was going on, the cops stopped in front of the store. Grabbing his discarded magazine, Woojin leaned forward on the counter and acted casual. When the police walked in, Woojin looked up with his best bored-store-clerk expression.

“Can I help you, officer?” Woojin asked, not putting the magazine down.

“We are pursuing a dangerous criminal and have reason to believe that he ran into this store,” the officer said. Woojin looked pointedly at his hand which was resting on his gun.

“Does it look like I’ve seen a ‘dangerous criminal?’” Woojin asked, finally setting down his magazine to make dramatic air quotes around the words.

“We will need to take a look around,” the officer said.

“You will need to be leaving,” Woojin replied firmly, pressing his hands onto the counter. “Having you people lurking around is bad for business, and I’ve already told you nobody ran into here. I would probably know if somebody did, there’s a bell on the door,  _ officer _ .” The officer narrowed his eyes at Woojin, his fingers flexing on his gun.

“I don’t want to have to arrest you for obstruction, but I will if you don’t step aside and allow a search of the premises,” the officer said.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Woojin said, leaning across the counter, “but you look to me like a glorified, gun-toting guard dog, and we don’t allow dogs in this establishment.” The officer glared darkly at him. “I suggest you either leave and get a warrant or present me with some actual evidence that this ‘dangerous criminal’ is somewhere on the premises,” Woojin snapped, not breaking his eye contact with the officer.

“I don’t need a warrant to search these premises if I believe he’s here,” the officer retorted, stepping up to the counter. Woojin stood back on his heels and crossed his arms. That was true, and he wasn’t sure how much he could argue with the officer before he got arrested. 

“Fine,” Woojin finally relented. “Look around. I already told you the place has been quiet all night, but by all means, waste your time looking around my humble convenience store.” The officer glared at him for a minute longer before turning around and beginning to look in the aisles. 

He’d probably want to look behind the counter too, so Woojin kicked Chan and discreetly gestured in the direction of his employee locker. It’d be tight, but Woojin’s was mostly empty so he could probably fit. Turns out, Chan was a lot more flexible than he looked and squeezed in easily. Slamming the door shut drew the officer's attention and Woojin held up a can of Monster he’d grabbed and shook it a little.

“You know how late night shifts can be, officer,” he said sarcastically, popping it open and taking a sip. The officer grunted and continued looking around.

“I’m gonna need to look behind the counter and in the back,” he said once he’d finished his search of the aisles. Woojin just took another sip of the Monster and gestured for the officer to do whatever he wanted. The officer stepped behind the counter and started snooping around. The staff lockers were all pretty small, so he probably wouldn’t bother looking through them. Picking the magazine back up, Woojin watched the officer over the top.

“Satisfied?” Woojin asked, setting the magazine down and giving the officer a bored look when he came back to the front of the store.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on this place,” the officer threatened before turning around and leaving.

“Good luck on your search, honorable officer of the law!” Woojin shouted after the officer as he left. Woojin watched the car pull away before walking over to the locker and opening it for Chan to get out.

“I can’t believe you shoved me in a locker,” he groaned, rolling out and sprawling on the floor.

“I can’t believe you brought the cops to my store,” Woojin retorted, crossing his arms as he looked down at Chan.

“I was in the neighborhood and knew you’d help me out,” Chan grinned up at him. Woojin rolled his eyes and walked back to his place at the counter.

“Bring the cops here again, and I’ll let you get arrested,” Woojin threatened, not meaning a word of it. When Chan didn’t say anything, Woojin looked back and just found him grinning back at him.

“Don’t you have friends that you should be checking on?” Woojin asked, rolling his eyes.

“Shit!” Chan exclaimed, eyes widening almost comically. Standing up, Chan vaulted the counter again even though Woojin left the little door open.

“Thanks again! I’ll be back soon!” Chan shouted as the door closed and he sprinted in the direction he’d come from. Woojin just rolled his eyes again and grabbed the magazine again.

~~~

Chan was back the next day, and he didn’t have any heat on him this time. Woojin had been absently scrolling through Twitter on his phone when he’d walked in.

“I wanted to properly thank you for yesterday,” Chan said before the door even closed. Woojin sighed and set his phone down.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at him. With the proud smile of a child showing their parent a drawing, Chan pulled out a piece of paper and slammed it down onto the counter. Woojin narrowed his eyes but grabbed the paper and slowly unfolded it. Written in neat script across the paper was a phone number.

“Is this…?” Woojin started, confused as he looked at the series of numbers.

“My phone number?” Chan finished, grin growing. “Why yes, yes it is. Since you won’t give me  _ your  _ number, I figured you’d want mine.” Woojin couldn’t help but laugh at Chan’s gaudy arrogance. Honestly, this guy was something else.

“What am I supposed to do with your number?” Woojin asked, still laughing.

“You could call me for a date,” Chan suggested innocently.

“I don’t make it a habit of dating wanted criminals,” Woojin replied, sliding the paper back toward Chan.

“You could call me about the job that just opened up in my gang instead,” Chan said, sliding the paper back to Woojin.

“I have a job already,” Woojin said, gesturing grandly to the store around them. Chan looked around, pretending to have just noticed their surroundings.

“This place seems boring,” Chan said finally, before looking seriously into Woojin’s eyes. “Join my gang, Woojin. We could use someone like you.” Woojin crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, looking Chan up and down. Oh, what the hell.

“Fine,” Woojin said, snatching up the paper from the counter. “I’ll join your gang.” Chan blinked at him like he was shocked that Woojin agreed.

“Just like that?” he asked in disbelief.

“Sure,” Woojin said shrugging. “I’m not getting any younger, and everything is more interesting than this hellscape.” A smile broke out across Chan’s face.

“Now that you are also a wanted criminal,” Chan started, leaning his elbows on the counter, “how about drinks.”

“Sure,” Woojin laughed. “You can buy me a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy chapter before the Grand Finale!!!!  
> Thank you all for reading!!!! <3  
> Let me know what you all thing!! Deadass this is my favorite chapter uwu


	20. You Can STAY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to You Can STAY by Stray Kids  
> Warnings: Violence

**Present Day**

Woojin angled his body so he was between Jeongin and the woman leering at them from the door. Jeongin’s semi-unconscious state made it difficult for Woojin to position him, but from his almost inaudible whimper when the woman spoke, Woojin would not let her anywhere near him. Pulling the gun out of his waistband, Woojin aimed it at the woman’s head.

“Let us leave,” Woojin said coldly. A sharp smile spread across the woman’s face as she stared down the barrel of the gun.

“I don’t think so,” the woman said. Turning to address the two behind her she said, “Aidan, Emile you’ve done well, please leave and attend to what’s happening in the courtyard.” The two nodded and ran off. When the woman turned back to face Woojin, the ice in her eyes chilled Woojin to his very core.

She walked into the room, her tall heels clicking menacingly in the silence. Woojin twisted, keeping himself between her and Jeongin. She walked up to Woojin and pinched the barrel of the gun between her manicured fingers, pushing the barrel to face the ceiling.

“Is Bang Chan here?” she asked, staring Woojin down with a blank, icy look. 

“Woojin, what’s going on?” Chan said into the com at the same time. Woojin didn’t say anything to either of them -- instead scowling at the woman as he reaimed the weapon at her head.

“I see we aren’t in a chatting mood,” the woman remarked, stepping back away from the gun.

“Let us leave,” Woojin repeated, cocking the gun still aimed steadily between the woman’s eyes.

“By all means,” she said, gesturing to the door. “I just want to speak with Bang Chan.”

As if by some sort of cruel, celestial joke, as soon as the woman stopped speaking, Chan said, “I’m on my way to your location, Woojin.” Woojin had to consciously stop himself from yelling at Chan lest the woman decide that he and Jeongin would make more valuable gambling pieces against Chan if they were dead.

“He’s talking to you, isn’t he? Can he hear me?” the woman taunted, tilting her head to the side. Woojin just glared at her debating whether he should shoot her right now and get the fuck out or if shooting her would just cause someone else to show up. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, he’ll get the message one way or another. Bang Chan, we raised you and molded you into the killer you are today. You owe us. If you come willingly, a spot among The Elders is guaranteed.” Woojin couldn’t believe what he was hearing from this woman. She was acting like it was some sort of honor to be one of The Elders, one of the people in charge of turning children into weapons. Before Woojin could decide to shoot the woman in front of him, Chan’s voice from the door drew his attention.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m afraid the family lineage has to end here,” Chan said, raising his gun and shooting the woman in one fluid motion. Blood sprayed from the woman’s head and coated the wall behind her. The sound of the gunshot caused Jeongin to whimper and clutch Woojin tighter albeit still weakly.

When Woojin turned to Chan, he expected to see anger or even sadness, but all he saw was a cold nothingness in Chan’s eyes. It chilled Woojin to his core to see Chan that empty -- like all he was meant for was to kill. Woojin made his way over to Chan, Jeongin’s mostly unconscious body making it difficult to move. Chan didn’t react as Woojin walked over, his eyes still on the still-warm body on the floor.

“Chan,” Woojin said softly, trying to draw his attention. Chan blinked several times and looked over at him, a haziness in his eyes that left Woojin feeling uneasy.

“Get him out of here,” Chan said, nodding in Jeongin’s direction. “I’m gonna burn this entire farm to the ground.” 

~~~

As soon as Chan had heard that Woojin had found Emile, he knew that they were screwed to hell and back. Even though the girls weren’t specifically trained in the various criminal tasks like the boys were, they were still taught a huge variety of skills, and Emile had been here since she and Chan had shown up here all those years ago. There was no doubt in Chan’s mind that she would lead Woojin right into a trap. Hearing Woojin’s icy demands to leave only served to justify Chan’s fears that he had walked right into a trap.

It wasn’t too difficult to figure out where he was -- the farm hadn’t changed too much since Chan left -- and he’d head Emile say something about a closet. Chan felt nauseous when she said that, the things that they did to people in that closet were horrific. He could only pray that The Family had gotten kinder, not crueler, in the years that he had been gone. 

“I’m on my way to your location, Woojin,” Chan said, turning on his heel and sprinting off toward where he knew the closet was. Distantly in his com, he heard an older woman talking to him, but he wasn’t listening. Chan’s entire attention was on trying to get to Woojin and Jeongin before whoever The Elders put in charge of them decided they were more work than they were worth.

When he got to the building, he heard the woman’s voice echoing down the hallway and almost laughed when he recognized it. It was Julia, the sister of the woman he’d shot on that fake job. The sister of the woman who had shot Hyunjin. Fuck, it was going to feel good to kill her.

As Chan approached the room, he heard the offer she was making. It was the same offer they’d made to him before he’d abandoned them and it left the same disgusting taste in his mouth. Why would they ask him to turn lost children into killers? Sure, he currently headed one of the youngest, most notorious gangs in the city, but it was different. At least, that’s what he told himself every time he saw one of his runners no older than fifteen. It was different.

Walking to the door, Chan zeroed in on Julia and saw nothing but her evil sneer, her manicured nails, and her perfect hairdo. She looked just the same as she had when he’d left. Aiming his weapon, Chan fired. Maybe he said something, but he was so focused on making sure she would never breathe again that he wasn’t really paying attention to his words. He couldn’t pull his eyes off of her body cooling on the floor. She was dead. How ironic that the very skills that they had so eagerly taught him were going to be used to destroy them. 

Woojin calling his name pulled Chan out of his trance, and when he managed to rip his eyes away from the body, he wished he hadn’t. Jeongin’s face was a bloody mess and he looked so weak -- he couldn’t even stand on his own. Fury boiled in Chan’s veins as he looked at Jeongin’s bloody and beaten body. 

“Get him out of here,” Chan said, clenching his jaw and nodding at Jeongin. “I’m gonna burn this entire farm to the ground.” He didn’t wait for Woojin to say anything. Ripping out his com and turning it off so that he wouldn’t have to listen to the others, Chan stormed down the hall to the building he knew all of the elders would be congregated in.

Up until this point, he’d been trying to stay under the radar, using shadows and stealth to his advantage, but now he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The only thing that he could think about was completely destroying The Family.

Stopping outside of the building, Chan surveyed his surroundings. He had no intention of walking into the building and conversing with them, and he was desperately outnumbered so going in guns blazing was off the table. He had to somehow trap them in there and literally burn them to ash. Looking around quickly, Chan found an old metal pipe and shoved it in the door handles to keep them from opening. Chan glanced at the windows briefly, but quickly moved past them, all of the windows on the farm were bulletproof and unable to be opened. Paranoid freaks.

The great thing about paranoid people is how they always keep all of the necessities close by, Chan thought as he grabbed a jerry can of gasoline from beside one of the vans.

Walking around the building, Chan found the approximate location of The Elders’ meeting room and started splashing gasoline on the wall making sure to make his way back around the entire building. After the building was sufficiently doused, Chan walked back to the window that looked into the meeting room and looked at all of The Elders inside. Tapping the window to get their attention, Chan held up a lighter for them to see before stepping back and tossing it onto the building, watching the gasoline ignite instantly.

Inside the building, The Elders sprang to life, running to try to get out of the door only to find it barred. Only one man didn’t follow them, instead, he walked to the window that Chan was still standing at. He was so much older than Chan remembered, his grey hair almost gone and his wrinkles deeper than they had been. His mouth was still set in a permanent scowl, but his eyes were warm like he was proud of Chan. Rage pooled in Chan’s stomach as the man, the leader of The Elders, stared down at him. How dare he be so smug about what Chan was doing. 

Turning away, Chan raised his middle finger and walked away from the building. He had more to burn.

~~~

Everything was a little bit hazy. When Woojin had first opened the door, Jeongin was convinced that either his hallucinations were just becoming more real or the angels of death were finally here to take him away. When he figured out that Woojin was real, he couldn’t muster enough energy to stay present the entire time.

Jeongin remembers when that awful woman came back. Her voice triggered so much panic in Jeongin, he blacked out until he heard the gunshot. At first, he thought that the woman had shot Woojin. Or maybe, Woojin had shot the woman. Oh, wouldn’t that have been wonderful?

Jeongin wasn’t able to figure out which it was before he felt Woojin tugging him along. Why did Woojin want him to move so much? Was it not enough for him to be here with Woojin probably alive? He really hoped he was alive and not currently being taken to the afterlife.

Woojin said something and then another voice spoke. Jeongin couldn’t place the other voice, but it felt comfortable. It felt like home. 

Then they were moving again. Jeongin tried to help, he really did. He tried to walk, but his legs weren’t responsive to his commands. Jeongin still wasn’t sure if his eyes were open or not, but despite that, everything started to fade. Maybe he really was dying; maybe this is what dying feels like. Jeongin let everything fade away as Woojin’s warm arms led him away.

When Jeongin woke up again, he was moving. Except, he wasn’t moving. His body was moving, but he was lying very still. For a second, Jeongin thought that his soul was being propelled through space, but he figured out pretty quickly that he was just in a car. 

“...just left him.”

“It’s what he said to do.”

“We have to…”

Jeongin heard a snippet of a conversation from voices that filled him with a comfortable calm, but he stopped listening when he registered a sensation on his arm. He hadn’t been able to feel his arms in so long, and now there was something on his arm. Something warm.

Maybe, if he could get his eyes to open, Jeongin could figure out what was on his arm. When he finally managed to force them open, he immediately regretted it. The light was blinding and the entire world spun so fast Jeongin felt like he was in a blender. Whatever was on his arm tightened.

“Relax, Innie,” a voice said gently. The voice was so nice to hear. Jeongin desperately tried to figure out who it was, but the only word that came to mind was family.

“...almost home… Hyunjin… waiting... Seungmin… help you...” Oh, the voice wasn’t done talking. Jeongin tried to focus on the words, but he was so tired and his brain was mushy and everything was hurting. At least when the hallucination was talking to him, it was talking directly into his brain. He didn’t have to focus on the words because he heard them whether he wanted to or not. Something touched his cheeks, and panic constricted Jeongin’s throat.

“...crying,” the voice said. Jeongin relaxed when he figured out that whoever was touching his cheek was just wiping away tears, but he couldn’t figure out how he got tears on his face. He really wished he could figure out who was next to him or what was on his arm.

Jeongin wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually, he stopped moving. The sudden stillness churned Jeongin’s stomach, and he had to desperately breathe through the sick feeling. Just when Jeongin was sure that he wasn’t going to vomit, he was moving again. This time, there was something warm around him. He figured out he was being carried just as they started to walk up what Jeongin could only assume were stairs.

Everything was so bouncy, and Jeongin felt his brain bouncing around in his skull and his stomach twist and churn. Groaning, Jeongin again attempted to breathe through this awful feeling.

“Almost there.” That was Woojin’s voice again. “Just go to sleep, kiddo.” Jeongin didn’t think that he wanted to sleep, but he also didn’t want to disappoint Woojin, so Jeongin allowed the haziness to overtake him once again.

~~~

Changbin sat anxiously in the living room, his eyes locked on the front door. They had just come home with Jeongin, who Seungmin immediately swept away, and Woojin told them that they had left Chan behind. The helpless look on Woojin’s face had been the only thing keeping Changbin from screaming at him when he’d told them. He knew that it made sense, Chan had told them to get Jeongin out of there and then had disconnected his com, but it still felt like they were somehow betraying him by leaving him behind.

To make everything worse, Chan hadn’t reconnected his com, so they had no way of knowing if he was okay or not. Changbin twisted his hands together in his lap and pulled nervously at his sleeves.

Everybody sat in the living room together, a pensive silence blanketing them. Jisung was nervously chewing his thumbnail, glancing between the front door and hallway that led back to where Seungmin was working on Jeongin. Jisung had told Changbin about how unresponsive Jeongin had been in the car. 

Minho sat close to Changbin side, glancing concernedly between the front door, Changbin, and the hallway. He tried to comfort Changbin, but Changbin shrugged him off. The weight of his touch felt crushing on Changbin’s already anxiety constricted airway.

Felix and Woojin sat silently. Felix was beside Jisung but wasn’t sitting very close. He stared blankly at the door, resembling a statue more than a human. Woojin sat with his back to the front door and his head in his hands, staring holes into the ground.

“What if he’s-” Changbin began.

“He’ll be fine,” Jisung cut him off, glancing at him. “Everyone is going to be fine.” His voice held a certain finality that made them almost sound like he was pleading with fate. Changbin just nodded and kept watching the door. Nobody was going to die today. Changbin wasn’t sure if he could stand it if any of them died today.

Just as Changbin was about to pick his thumbs bloody, the door opened and Chan walked in. Without thinking, Changbin sprang up and ran toward him.

“Chan! You’re okay!” Changbin said, stopping just in front of him. Jisung ran after him, pulling both him and Chan into a tight hug.

“I knew you were going to be okay,” Jisung breathed, relief dripping from his words. Chan wrapped his arms around them tightly, pulling them close. It didn’t take long for Minho and Felix to both join the group hug too. 

“Don’t pull something like that again.” Changbin pulled out of the hug and looked over his shoulder to see Woojin standing with his arms crossed over his chest, face twisted into a disapproving scowl.

“I needed to,” Chan said, taking a step toward Woojin. Woojin looked him up and down like somebody appraising a car before pulling him into a tight hug; the tension in his body melting away as he held Chan. Chan let out a startled laugh before wrapping his arms around Woojin.

“Did you burn that entire place down?” Woojin asked, pulling out of the hug and holding Chan at arm's length.

“That farm is ash,” Chan said, the words carrying a gravitas that caused goosebumps to prickle across Changbin’s arms. They stood in silence for a while, allowing the weight of the words to truly settle around the room. 

“Fuck The Family,” Changbin said suddenly. Everybody turned to look at Changbin. “Stray Kids can’t be taken down that easy.”

“Stray Kids will always stay,” Chan said, a huge grin spreading across his lips.

~~~

Jeongin wasn’t sure how long we slept for, but when he woke up he somehow felt both better and worse. His mind felt clearer, but every single part of his body hurt. When Jeongin tried to speak, he found his mouth dry and his throat achy. Prying his eyes open, he looked around the dimly lit room.

It was his, Seungmin, and Hyunjin’s room. He was lying on the bed, Seungmin’s home IV stand set up beside him and a line in his arm. Jeongin looked up at the bag that they’d probably stolen from the hospital at some point and wondered what it was.

Looking around the rest of the room, Jeongin found Seungmin asleep on the floor right beside the bed with Hyunjin curled securely into his side. Jeongin looked down at them, feeling warmth spread through his body. He thought that he would never see them again. Jeongin tried again to speak, but it came out more like a croak than any intelligible words. On the floor, both Seungmin and Hyunjin stirred.

“Jeongin!” Seungmin gasped, springing up to come and check on him. Jeongin smiled weakly at him as Seungmin gave him a quick once over.

“Are you thirsty?” Seungmin asked, reaching for a cup on the bedside table. Jeongin gratefully accepted it, sipping the water slowly. He never really appreciated the taste of water until he had gone so long without it. 

“How are you feeling, Sunshine?” Hyunjin asked, standing up beside Seungmin. He looked pretty worse for wear, Jeongin noted. He looked pale and like he hadn’t eaten in a while. The bags under his eyes were a little alarming.

“I feel like shit,” Jeongin croaked out, his voice rough from disuse. “You look awful.” Hyunjin grinned at that.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin chuckled. “You don’t look so great yourself.” Jeongin gave him a small smile. Jeongin stared up at them for a moment before making small grabbing motions with his hands.

“What do you need?” Seungmin asked, sounding distressed as he looked at Jeongin’s hands. Jeongin rolled his eyes, the motion causing him to feel a little bit dizzy, but he ignored it.

“You two,” Jeongin managed to say, giving both of them a significant look. Hyunjin beamed at him before carefully crawling into the bed beside Jeongin, pulling him gently into his side, mindful Jeongin’s injured body and the IV. 

Seungmin stared down at them for a second, chewing his lip as if trying to decide if it was a good idea. Eventually, he decided it was and crawled into the bed on Jeongin’s other side, pulling both Hyunjin and Jeongin gently into his arms.

Jeongin melted happily into the warmth surrounding him. Despite his aching body, Jeongin felt so good being here with them. He felt warm and safe between their bodies. Jeongin knew that just outside the door, everybody else was home and together. His whole family was safe and together. As Jeongin shut his eyes, he had one final thought before drifting off to sleep.

This was the best place that he could possibly be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!!! That's the story!!!!!  
> thank you so much to everybody who read!!!!!! <3  
> I love you all so much!!!!


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